


Red Casebook Entries

by KevlarMasquerade (nightsstarr)



Category: DCU, Teen Titans
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-02
Updated: 2013-06-01
Packaged: 2017-12-13 17:01:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/826671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightsstarr/pseuds/KevlarMasquerade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Damian Wayne. A ruthless young man from some undisclosed, mountainous area in the Middle East. Heir to the League of Shadows. Mar'i Grayson. A sweet girl from Bludhaven, New Jersey who occasionally fights with her father. Technically, princess of Tamaran. When their worlds collide, they crash together violently. Requested by sirenmergirl on fanfiction.net</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here's a quick rundown of this fic.
> 
> Red Casebook Entry will be Damian's point of view. (In comicverse, this is Damian's audio log, so it will be spoken but read like a diary.) Normal narration will be Mar'i's, set an unspecified amount of time between Damian's Red Casebook Entries. I set this to make Damian 20 and Mar'i 19 as of 2013, just because. Beware of time skips.

" _Red Casebook Entry #1. April 15, 1998._

"I completed my first training session with the League of Assassins. Mother says I won't be able to see her nearly as often as I have in the past, but that is of no consequence. I have no need to be overly attached to anyone. The ninja in charge of my training, whom I am to address as 'sensei', says that I am prodigious. Clearly. I am somewhat offended that he was surprised. Has Mother not made him aware of my genetic roots? I am the heir of Ra's al Ghul, son of the greatest martial artist alive. Being prodigious is not optional for me, as breathing or blinking is not. Of course, Mother has kept my father's true identity secret to me. I believe this a test. I am to determine my father's identity before I am told. I do hope it is not any of the ninja who have trained me today. Their prowess is hardly noteworthy. I hope to rise through the ranks quickly. Mother says I am overly ambitious, but I merely wish to stave off boredom."

…

"I don't understand."

Both parents glanced at each other, a look of mutual worry for the emotional state of their daughter, before turning their attentive gaze to her.

"Now, Mar'i, honey, you know that not everybody's parents stay together." The dark haired man spoke softly, trying to give his daughter the right amount of fact and reassurance at the same time.

"Lian's parents," the redheaded woman added, and her husband nodded in agreement.

Their daughter furrowed her brows, her green-on-green eyes narrowing as she thought about this. "That's true, Daddy, but Lian's parents don't get along." She raised her gaze back up to her parents and tilted her head slightly, a gesture she had inherited, along with her bright eyes, from her mother. "You and Mommy love each other."

Her father smiled, a soft smile that was meant to reassure his child but was colored by his own sadness, and took the redhead's hand. "Yes. We do. But Mommy has to go home."

"Home is here," the child insisted, no less confused.

The redhead stepped away from her husband and crouched in front of her child, gathering her in her arms. " _Your_ home is here. And that is why I must go. Tamaran needs an heir, beloved, and you do not belong there."

"But if I go, you can stay here with Daddy," the child said solemnly. "You can stay here with Daddy. You'll be sad without him."

The redhead stood, bringing her child up with her. "I would be more sad if you were apart from us both. I love you, Mar'i. Stay with Daddy, and stay safe."

Mar'i disentangled herself from her mother's embrace and she floated over to her father. "Daddy," she whined, tugging his arm in the direction of her mother. "Make her stay."

The man shook his head and pulled his daughter out of the air to hug her to his chest. "I can't." The four year old stared at her father, a look of shock and distrust on her face. "Now, Mar'i, listen to me for a—"

She would not listen. She let loose a weak spray of starbolts from her palms, which made her father release her.

"Mar'i, come back!" he called after her as she flew as fast as she could through the house.

"Dick. Let her be," a feminine voice told him sadly.

Tears blurred her vision, but Mar'i didn't need to see to reach her own private sanctuary. A room in the house that used to be a closet was turned into a teleport. It would take her father to Gotham, Bludhaven, or Titans' Tower here in Jump, but it also had one very special location. There was an asteroid in the depths of space, close enough to see Tamaram at any point in its rotation around its star, Vega. With Tamaranean technology, Mar'i's mother was able to set up a dome of Tamaranean atmosphere inside a trans-warp singularity. She, unlike her mother, needed the Tamaranean atmosphere. She could not survive in the vacuum of space.

The distressed little girl pulled the closet door after her and floated up to reach the teleport pad, selecting the correct button from memory, as she could not yet quite read. Her world shimmered and faded and came back into existence again in the form of black space above and rocky, dull asteroid rock below. From here, Mar'i could see the stars and all of space right around her.

This was her haven. She pulled her knees up to her face without even glancing at the secret marvels all around her. Maybe if she stayed here long enough, she could see the ship carrying her mother away to Tamaran.

…

" _Red Casebook Entry #191. April 15, 2003._

"I turned ten today, and I have been training for exactly five years. Mother has insisted I take the day off, which was a mystery to me. I had no desire to cease training, but she insisted and Sensei urged me to show the proper amount of respect. I admit I am glad I did. To celebrate the tenth anniversary of my birth, Mother purchased a small island in the Mediterranean Sea. It belongs to me, now. I thought Mother might reveal to me the identity of my father, but it remains a secret. It's infuriating. Everyone must know. Everyone but me. How do I know how high I must set my goals in order to become his equal or surpass him in skill? The only remedy is to train harder. Become better than any man alive, even my father. I am Damian, I am the heir to the al Ghul Empire and the League of Assassins, and I swear on the tenth anniversary of my birth that I will become the greatest master of each martial art and I will, one day, best my father in a match of skill."

…

It was the day of her tenth birthday, an exciting time for any child. Mar'i was excited to enter her 'double digits'. Her best friend, Lian, was almost a year older than her, and she'd been waiting to catch up. "Thanks for taking me to the carnival, Daddy! Do you think I could learn how to walk on a tightrope, too?"

Dick Grayson laughed as he flipped the keys on his ring to locate the correct one. "Of course you can, Starshine. You'd be great at it. It's in your blood."

Mar'i wrinkled her nose at the mention of blood. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that I did it, and you probably can too. You're getting pretty good at normal gymnastics, and you like it a lot, right?" Dick asked as he slid the key into the lock.

"Yeah, but I like flying better. I have to really concentrate on not flying during lessons. I bet they'd let me fly if I joined the carnival!"

"Now, Mar'i, we're a circus family. No daughter of mine will be joining the carnival."

The door swung open onto a rectangle of darkness, which worried Mar'i. Her father was usually strict about leaving the light on downstairs when they went out since their move to Bludhaven. It discouraged small-grade robberies. She peered into the darkness, then glanced up at her father, unsure. "Daddy?"

"Go on, Mar'i."

Mar'i shrugged and entered the house, dropping her bookbag—which held the Nightwing plushie her father had won for her at the carnival—on the ground.

"SURPRISE!" an entire crowd of people shouted at her, jumping out from behind furniture and around corners.

Mar'i lit two pink starbolts over her clenched fists, her reflexes taking over. She extinguished them as soon as she realized what was going on. "Dad!" Mar'i groaned, although she was smiling widely. "You almost scared me half to death!"

Embarrassingly, her father caught her in an embrace, lifting her up off the ground. "Happy birthday, Starshine! Everyone's here."

"Even Grampa Bruce?" Mari'i demanded squirming in her father's arms.

"And Alfred, too."

"Lemme down, Dad!"

Dick did as he was told and Mar'i rocketed across the room to tackle Grampa Bruce's legs in a hello hug. Fortunately, old age had nothing on Bruce Wayne, and he was able to keep himself from toppling to the floor.

"Hi, Grampa!"

Bruce Wayne scooped up the rambunctious ten year old and gave her a squeeze. "How's my favorite granddaughter?"

Mar'i rolled her bright eyes at her grandfather. "I'm your only granddaughter."

"Hello, Miss Mar'i," Alfred greeted her from Bruce's side, "and a happy birthday to you."

"Alfred!" Mar'i floated away from Bruce's arms and hugged Alfred around the neck, careful not to squeeze too hard. "What did you make me this time?" she asked eagerly.

"Snickerdoodles, Miss Mar'i. With actual Snickers in them, as I remember you enjoy."

"Yes! Thank you!"

Mar'i floated down to the ground to locate her friends among the crowd of people. Her father was right. Everyone really was here. There was Aunt Raven and Uncle Gar, Aunt Sarah and Uncle Vic, and Uncle Roy and Lian. Even Uncle Tim had come. Rarely did Mar'i felt more loved than on her birthdays.

…

" _Red Casebook Entry #260. November 18, 2005_

"Today I mastered Russian. This achievement marks the fifteenth language I speak. English, Arabic, Hebrew, French, Spanish, Mandarin, Cantonese, Japanese, Italian, German, Latin, Greek, Romanian, Portuguese, and if it counts, American Sign Language, for the purposes of communicating to my subordinates in instances where we must remain silent. Mother is content with the languages I speak, but it is insufficient. I am not yet fluent Swahili, not to mention the dozens of other languages that come from Africa. There are several dialects of French that are infuriatingly different than the French I learned. My father probably knows each dialect of each language I speak. I cannot fail. I must continue to train my mind as well as my body."

…

Mar'i stood, dressed in her gymnastics leotard. She wasn't at gymnastics. In fact, she had quit only a few weeks prior. Right now, she was standing on the balance beam, her hair pulled into a high ponytail and a worried look on her face.

"You can do it, Starshine," Dick urged, his voice gentle as he spotted his daughter from the side of the beam.

She shook her head, frustrated, and dropped her arms which she had been holding out parallel to the ground for balance. "I can't, Dad. That's why I quit."

"Are you afraid?" he asked, sounding more curious than anything else.

"Of course not. I can fly and catch myself. Besides, this balance beam isn't that high. A fall from this height won't hurt me like the other kids." She glared down at the balance beam. "I don't know. I just can't do it."

"You can do anything you set your mind to," Dick told her sternly, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Well, of course you think that. You're my dad. Duh."

"It's not because you're my daughter. It's because you're your mother's daughter. And your mother… She could do anything she set her mind to. And I know you're as stubborn as she is."

Mar'i gulped at the mention of her mother. Her father didn't often bring her up, and she let fuzzy memories of warm hugs and Tamaranean dishes make their way through her mind. "Fine. I'll try. But I can't control my stupid flight! It kicks in as a reflex."

"Mar'i," Dick said softly, trying to soothe his preteen daughter. "You love gymnastics. And you're good. I know you quit because you know using your flight is cheating, even if it's not on purpose. But, Starshine, you control your powers. Your powers don't control you."

"How would you know?" she snapped, angered. "You don't have any powers!" Dick dropped his arms to the side, unsure of what to say, and Mar'i immediately looked regretful. "Oh, Daddy, I'm sorry. I just… I want to be like everybody else!" Mari took a seat on the beam, her legs hanging over one side. "I know that I have gifts and whatever, but Lian's super good at archery, and she still gets to be like everybody else!"

"You know," Dick told his daughter, tucking her hair behind her ear in a loving gesture, "when I was younger, I felt so left out that I didn't have powers. Couldn't fly, couldn't lift cars, couldn't change into things. I guess I never considered that it's hard to have superpowers, too.

"I guess I might feel left out when I'm with Luke and Iris if I didn't have powers. But Jai and Lian don't have them, and _nobody_ at school has them. And now I can't even do gymnastics."

"Maybe you'd feel better if you could actually use your powers," Dick began slowly.

Mar'i snapped her head up to look at him. "Are you gonna say what I think you're gonna say?"

"Maybe you'd like to come on patrol with me one day."

"Oh! Daddy, I'd _love_ that! I wanna help you kick bad guy butt all night long!" Mar'i floated until she was standing on the beam again and she performed a jump kick and jabbed punches at pretend bad-guys, landing on the beam again with a fierce smile.

"Hey, I have to talk to your mother about it. Speaking of your mother, you should probably video chat her tonight. I know you've been worried over gymnastics, but she doesn't like to be out of the loop."

"Yeah, yeah, okay. I'll definitely do that tonight."

"Okay. Now how about we work on back handsprings? Remember, no flight."

With renewed energy, Mar'i took a better position on the beam. "Okay!"

…

" _Red Casebook Entry #482. April 15, 2007._

"This day marks the fourteenth anniversary of my birth. I have mastered six of the eight one-move killing techniques. Mother attempted to test my knowledge by making me kill six people she assembled for the purposes of demonstrating my abilities. I did not kill them. It is the first time I have ever disobeyed an order. Do not mistake this to mean that I am an obedient puppet of the League of Shadows; obedience is the fastest way to rise, and I am well aware of that. However, Sensei, who has always guided me best, looked uncomfortable with the task. The six people Mother gathered for me did not commit high crimes against any state, they did not hold dangerous information, they did not infiltrate our League. Four of the men had children, and one of them wore an engagement ring. What they all had in common was stealing money—always a small sum, for surely any significant amount would have meant their immediate deaths—from my grandfather. All of these men were desperate. I refused to do it. Mother says that an assassin kills because they are ordered to. I told her that an assassin picks their missions. I would not kill those relatively innocent men. My mother later informed me that they were killed by the group of training-assassins, the rank just below me. I think I was supposed to learn a lesson, but I am unsure exactly what that lesson was. The world of morality is filled with many shadows."

…

The vigilante sessions with her father were growing longer. There were so many rules. She had to be home by eleven, nine on weekdays. She was _never_ allowed out on her own. She even got her own uniform—of course, it was loaded with much more Kevlar than her father's, but Mar'i knew that complaining would mean the end of her days as a vigilante. Her uniform was purple, with a star symbol on her chest and—she'd requested these—fingerstripes that matched her father's. It was a Grayson thing, she'd supposed. She didn't even have to wear a domino mask since her eyes were disguised with a hologram pendant, or ring, or earring as she asked Cyborg for some variation in the designs, while she was using her civilian identity and they were their natural hue while she fought crime. All she needed to do was take the ring off, slip on her special Tamaranean headband that she incorporated into her uniform, and… Bam! Instant Nightstar.

Yeah. Nightstar. She thought of it herself. She simply joined her parents' superhero names together. It felt right.

Mar'i hated leaving patrol at nine on weekdays. Especially if she knew her father was going to be doing something dangerous. Now that she was fourteen, she'd been pushing the curfew. Just a little. Her dad, she'd reminded him several times, was out until three or four when he was her age. But then, he was homeschooled, and that was _so_ not a road Mar'i wanted to go down. Uncle Tim, however, was never homeschooled, and he was out much later than Mar'i was allowed right now.

Keeping up with her father, at least in terms of roof-jumping, was not as hard as she expected. A lot of it was copying what her dad was doing. Copying him was easy, because even if she couldn't do it on her own, her flight compensated. She was doing triple flips right alongside her father, who had more years of experience than she'd been alive.

"Cheater," Nightwing called as his daughter landed a double flip in a perfect crouch while he rolled on the impact.

"Oh! Sorry, Dad! I'm just trying stuff out." Nightstar really sounded apologetic.

"Take it easy. You're doing fine." He placed one foot on the elevated ledge of the building, scanning over their city.

Nightstar stood on the opposite side of the building. She was perched on the edge, her arms spread out above her head while the wind ruffled her hair. Superheroing was beginning to become her purpose, she knew it.

She spotted something in the alley between two buildings. Nothing more than a twitch. "Dad."

He was at her side immediately, alerted by the serious tone of her voice.

Nightstar looked up at her father and pointed wordlessly, then followed as he lowered himself to the ground with a series of acrobatics.

It was a man, half dead. No—half alive. She had to stay optimistic.

"Nightstar, go home."

She widened her eyes at her father. "Huh? Wha—why?"

"Don't argue with me about this." Her father crouched down next to the man, his fingers pressed against his throat, feeling for a pulse.

"You can't—I'm almost fifteen! How am I ever going to learn anything if you never let me stay when it gets a little gory?"

He raised his head to look at his daughter, his mouth set in a grim line and the domino mask having an oddly creepy effect on his expression. "This is not a discussion. Go home."

"Fine!" she snapped, and she floated to the top of the roof.

Normally, her father wouldn't fall for this, but he was distracted. Mar'i crouched behind the lip of a building, looking down at her father and the dying man. She had to concentrate to hear.

"Who did this to you?" Nightwing demanded, and Mar'i could see white gauze, produced from a compartment in his gauntlet.

"C-c-c-cuhhhhh…"

"Go on," her father prompted, his voice gentle as he wrapped a wound under the man's shirt. Not that it would do any good, but Dick Grayson was not the sort of man who gave up when it came to that kind of thing.

"Covenant of Kahhhhh…"

She could see her father doing compressions, most likely in vain. He would bleed out if he didn't die of heart failure.

Minutes passed with only the sound of Nightwing's hands pounding on the man's chest thirty times, pausing to allow two breaths and then starting up again. Nightstar wanted to go help, but she didn't know how to give CPR properly yet. They gave classes at the rec center in Bludhaven, she made a mental note to herself to go take one ASAP.

Finally, her father stopped. It was a forfeit and he would be in a bad mood when he came home, and distant tomorrow. He leaned forward, his forehead resting on his hand, and was frozen in that position for what seemed like a long time, but couldn't possibly have been more than half a minute. Letting out a long sigh, Nightwing arranged the man's head so that the right side of his neck was exposed, revealing a tattoo of the creepiest looking spider Nightstar had ever seen.

"Council of Spiders," Nightwing muttered, and Nightstar could hardly make it out.

Her father turned his head, and Nightstar hit the floor of the roof as fast as she possibly could, flattening herself with such vigor that she hurt her stomach. Council of Spiders… That was a group of assassins. Uncle Tim had a run-in with them a few years ago. Covenant of Ka… She'd never heard of that before. But Ka was an Egyptian god, or something. Maybe it was a cult.

She'd have to research it later. For now, she had to get her butt home before her father realized she was still there.

…

" _Red Casebook Entry #547. June 16, 2008._

"I went on my first mission today. It was not, unfortunately, a solo mission. We were to infiltrate the Covenant of Ka, who have been killing members of the League as well as the members of other groups of assassins across the globe for sport. I killed the leader of the Covenant of Ka. He was guilty of the slaughter of hundreds of men and women who had no quarrel with him, who were not part of an assignment. He began a war among the groups of assassins, who have always coexisted peacefully, if with some tension. He deserved to die. His death opened up a hole in the ranks of the Covenant of Ka, and our agents tell us deaths continue as those in the Covenant fight for dominance. If I die… If I renounce the League… what will happen in my absence? How many people that I know, with whom I communicate, would die? Sensei? Perhaps even Mother? This must be why my grandfather was so eager to produce an heir. It is calming to know that my existence brings peace and equilibrium to the League."

…

"There. Look there."

Dick dragged the mouse to the time Tim wanted him to rewatch and played the video again. "Looks like the League. That kid… He's gotta be sixteen at most. He just kills the Ka leader like it's nothing."

"That's not that much younger than you. Five years isn't so much," Dick pointed out. Before Tim could rebut with a defensive argument, the older Wayne continued with the matter at hand. "But why would the League be interested in the Covenant?" He was pensively silent for a moment before mumbling, "About a year ago there was a murder here…"

Mar'i watched quietly, leaning on the wall opposite the computer. Actually managing to sneak up on her father was quite an achievement. She didn't want to ruin it, but she had to ask.

"What league are you talking about?" she inquired innocently.

Dick turned so quickly, he almost knocked Tim's laptop from the desk. "Mar'i! What are you doing there?"

"I'm sorry, Daddy." She was keeping up the innocent act. "I was only wondering what you were doing."

"We're investigating something, sweetie. Can you do us a favor and go watch a movie or something?"

"Dad!" Mar'i whined. "You can't send me off like I'm some little kid!"

"You _are_ a little kid," he mumbled under his breath.

Mar'i put her hands on her hips. "I am not! I'm almost sixteen!"

"I thought your birthday wasn't for another four months?" Tim interrupted.

The fifteen year old shot him her very best impression of Grandpa Bruce's Bat-glare.

"Sorry, sorry," Tim apologized, holding his palms flat out to her in a gesture of surrender. "The Glare could use some work, but I get the point."

"You can't keep hiding things from me, Dad!" she continued, ignoring her uncle.

"Mar'i. You're doing so well on patrols. Don't make me regret bringing you with me."

"Mom says you're being overprotective and unfair!" Mar'i shouted, stomping her foot on the ground.

Her father raised his eyebrows, and Mar'i regretted bringing her mother into this. "She did?"

"Well… no. That was mostly me saying that. But you started being a superhero when you were nine years old! I'm almost twice that!"

"Fifteen is _not_ twice as old as nine," Dick interrupted hastily.

"It basically is! And you hardly even trust me to throw a birdarang, or a batarang, or whatever new explodey toy you have shoved up your sleeve! Why don't you trust me? I can hit a bull's-eye with a starbolt from fifty yards away! And you _still_ don't think I can do it!"

"I do think you can do it, Starshine. It's just—you're my little girl. I don't want you getting hurt."

"Well good job. Not a scratch on me, but I hate—" She paused. She was angry, and a little bit hurt, but she did not hate her father. He looked horrified that she was about to say it, so she hurried to correct her statement. "I hate it when you do this!"

With that, she lifted into the air and stormed through the house to her room. Her father hated it when she flew in the house, but she didn't care right now. She needed to be away from him. She turned the lock on her door and grabbed her cell phone. Clicking through the contacts, she found Lian and stepped into her closet, pulling the door closed tightly. This was where the teleport to her treehouse was, and she'd used it dozens of times before. But before she went to her treehouse, she had something to take care of.

"Hey, Lian?" she greeted her best friend when she finally picked up the phone. "Remember what you were saying about a new Teen Titans?"

…

" _Red Casebook Entry #694. September 10, 2010._

"My father is Bruce Wayne. I was confused when this was revealed to me. Bruce Wayne is a socialite from America's Gotham City. My mother revealed to me that he is also the Batman, a man my grandfather greatly respects, a man who disapproves entirely of the League of Shadows. I asked to be left alone. I am unsure of everything. The world I have built up, of my father being the leader of a rival group of assassins who would see me as a prize, who would covet my skills, is a lie. I have been deluding myself. My father undoubtedly hates my violent tendencies. I doubt he even knows he has a son. I don't know what to think. I have been asked to infiltrate his Batman persona from the inside; to gain his trust as his son, fleeing the League of Shadows to seek his aid. I cannot. I refused the mission. Grandfather even tried to persuade me, but I steadfastly refused. If I am to destroy my father, I will need to train more. I will need to do it directly. Grandfather was not pleased, but he agreed that I will, one day, bring down the Wayne legacy and their network of vigilantes, and I shall do it my way. I am unsure if I even want to do it, but I must best my father. I must prove my worth. I am Damian Wayne, and I will defeat the Batman.

…

Their Tower was fashioned after the original one in Jump. Uncle Vic was busy with the Justice League, so he couldn't help them construct it, but Aunt Sarah was there, and she knew almost everything that Uncle Vic did, and she had a more artistic flair to her work.

The team was something of a motley crew. There was Mar'i, obviously, although she had no desire to lead. That job went to Lian, who, in the nicest way possible, was much better at bossing people around. Maybe it was because if she pointed an arrow at you, you didn't know if you would get electorcuted or frozen into a block of ice when it hit you. It made you eager to please.

Luke McDunnogh, Offspring, joined their ranks, too. He was the son of Plastic Man, with the same elastic, shape-shifting abilities. He was funny and a nice source of relief from Mar'i's crazy life at home.

Iris West, Kid Flash. She was a little too serious in Mar'i's opinion, but they got along all the same. She was a speedster, and she was really good at what she did. They all were—you had to be to form your own team of vigilantes—but Iris seemed to doubt her abilities more than the rest of them. Maybe that was why she was so serious.

Zachary Zatara, cousin of Zatanna, gifted with the same ability of backward-magic. He was kind of… sarcastic. All the time. In a way that made it hard to tell whether or not he was being mean. He was kind of full of himself. His catchphrase ended up being, 'I am the best teenaged magician of my time!' but honestly, how many teenage magicians were there, anyway? He seemed to have a soft spot for Lian, though, so Mar'i let him snark all he wanted.

Even though Mar'i sort of threw the team together because she was angry with her father, he seemed proud of her. The team decided to base in New York City, which was only forty-five minutes away from Bludhaven and a half hour away from Gotham. With zeta beam teleports, though, she could have been superheroing on the moon and her father wouldn't have been able to use distance as a hitch in the plan.

There were bedrooms—she and Lian got a lecture about not letting either of the boys sleep in their rooms at the same time, which was an awful experience, to put it gently—but they really only slept there on weekends. Zatara, who dropped out of high school in favor of becoming 'the best teenage magician' often returned there to sleep, though. Mar'i and Lian would escape there during the week to catch up and talk to each other, and sometimes Iris would join them.

Mar'i knew she was really doing something worthwhile. She had her family at home—her father, her aunts and uncles, even her mother, via video-chat—and she had her Titans family. Everything was working out.

…

" _Red Casebook Entry #831. April 15, 2011._

"I have been given my mission. I am to tear the Bat-family, as they call themselves, to shreds. Bruce Wayne, the Batman, closely affiliated to Selina Kyle, also known as Catwoman. Dick Grayson, Nightwing, ward of Bruce Wayne and the first Robin, also known as Nightwing, closely affiliated to Starfire, who has returned to her home planet of Tamaran. Dick Grayson. The son that my father loved. The son he wanted. I am very interested in this target, and I admit it is unprofessional. It's almost entirely personal. I wish to cause this man as much emotional damage as possible. Since this 'Starfire' is out of my reach, I will make a target of his daughter. Mary Grayson, also known as Mar'i Grayson, also known as Nightstar. She is easily within my breadth. A seventeen year old with a ritualistic life. It is not technically part of the mission, but this girl is my main target. Jason Todd, the second Robin, also known as Red X, also known as Red Hood; an operative anti-hero who serves as a nuisance to both the League and the Bat-family. He is not a relevant target. Tim Drake, the third Robin, also known as Red Robin; closely affiliated to Stephanie Brown, also known as Spoiler, also known as Batgirl. They are relevant targets, but I remain much more interested in the first Robin and his spawn. Other targets include Barbara Gordon, the first Batgirl, also known as Oracle, closely affiliated with Ted Kord, and Cassandra Cain, a prodigy raised as an assassin like myself, the second Batgirl, also known as Black Bat, stationed in Hong Kong. Her distance makes her irrelevant. I have a plan of attack. I will watch recordings of each person listed in this entry, pin them all as persons of interest, rank their importance as targets, and when I am fully prepared, I will go to America.

…

"Absolutely not."

Mar'i glared at her father. "Why not?"

"You're too young," he said simply as he continued loading the dishwasher.

"Dad. You're being unfair. Would you listen to yourself?"

He turned his blue eyes to his daughter's bright green ones. "I am. I'm wondering if you're listening to yourself, actually. What you're asking me is to allow you to start a relationship with a boy who sleeps in the same building as you."

Mar'i stamped her foot on the ground. "Oh my god. I cannot believe you just went there. Do you know what you're accusing me of?" she shouted angrily.

Dick closed the dishwasher calmly. At least she had his full attention now. "I'm not accusing you of anything. I don't think—"

"It sure sounds to me like you're accusing me of trying to… to—"

"That's enough, Mar'i," Dick interrupted sharply.

"Uncle Roy lets Lian and Zach date!" Mar'i pointed out, trying to keep her eyes from glowing. It was difficult when she was so angry.

"Uncle Roy is not me, and you are not Lian."

"I wish I was! Her dad actually _lets_ her do fun things every once in a while!"

"Mar'i…"

"I know. I'm sorry. I didn't mean that." The teenager took in a deep breath o calm herself. "Why does _everything_ have to be a struggle with you?"

"Everything is not a struggle," Dick countered, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the counter.

"It took _ages_ for you to let me go out on my own. And when you finally did, it was because you hurt your back, _and_ I'm still under a curfew in Bludhaven."

"That's not everything."

"Don't you understand, Dad? I'm not _like_ you. I'm Tamaranean. I have powers that you have to let me use. I have emotions that I can't keep inside, and you're trying to make me!" She was getting teary now. She always got upset when her father failed to understand that she _needed_ to do certain things.

"Starshine," Dick said softly, and he opened his arms for a hug. When she stepped into his embrace, he was quiet for a long time. Then he said, "I know that you're different. You're not like Lian or Iris, and I guess that's why it's hard for me, too." He put his hands on her shoulders and gave her a stern look. "But you can't hide behind your heritage. Maybe it did take me a while to let you go out on your own, but you needed to practice controlling your powers. And right now, I don't know if you have enough practice controlling your emotions."

She scowled at her father. "You can't tell me how to feel. I'll just date him behind your back, if you don't give me permission," she informed her father bluntly.

"That's not a good way to solve this."

"Neither is outright forbidding me! Why can't you trust me, Daddy?"

"I do trust you."

His resolve was weakening. She could feel it. "You and mom dated when you were Titans," she reminded him quietly.

"We were older," he snapped defensively.

"By, like, a year! Please, Dad. I told Luke I'd ask you first, but I really want you to be supportive of me."

Dick ran a hand through his hair. "It's times like these I wish your mother was here."

That stung. It always did when he said that. There was guilt, first of all, for making him miss her, and then there was the hole she felt in her stomach because she missed her, too. But, beyond that, Mar'i felt hopeful. Her mother would let her date whoever she wanted. Her mother would let her date Trigon, if she really wanted to. She clung to that hope desperately now.

"Let me talk to her about it and then see what I can tell you, okay?"

She floated up so she could throw her arms around her father's neck. "Thank you, Daddy." Then, for good measure, she threw in an "I love you."

"Love you too, Starshine."

…

" _Red Casebook Entry #963. October 12, 2011._

"It has taken me upward of six months, but I have finally landed in America. Despite urges from Sensei, I have chosen Mar'i Grayson as my first target. Since she is on the fringe of the Bat-family, it will be a warning. I prefer to play with my food before I eat it. A trait I inherited neither from my father nor my mother, although I believe both of them have similar scare tactics. This habit of mine is born from a grudge. I have rented an apartment outside Wolfman High School in Bludhaven, where Grayson is in her senior year. Coming here is perfect, as once Grayson is terminated, I can make a clean getaway, as most of the Bat-family is stationed in Gotham."

…

Given her recent relationship problems with Luke, Mar'i was certainly not looking for another boy to give her problems.

But she found one all the same.

He was older than her. He had to be. He wasn't in high school, obviously. Unless he went to one of those snooty private schools down the road.

It started in October. Mar'i—or Mary, as she was known at school—always walked through the park to get home from school. She didn't strictly need to, but she liked it. Sometimes she'd stay and hang out with her friends, or she'd read for half an hour before dealing with the craziness of her father and her uncle, and sometimes her Aunt Stephanie.

At the end of October, she noticed him. He was an interesting kind of guy. He always had a book with him. _War and Peace_ one day, an old poetry book another. He was attractive, too. Nice hair in the way that she couldn't tell if he'd done it purposefully or if the wind ruffle it like that. Such blue eyes. She normally didn't care for blue eyes. Girls fawned over blue-eyed guys, but seeing as her father had blue eyes, they never did anything for Mar'i. But these… these were like ice. Of course, looking at the color of his eyes meant making eye contact, which always made her feel weird.

The shape of his eyes was nice, too. Thin, like an almond got stretched a little bit in the middle.

He was young. Maybe a freshman in college. It wasn't that weird for her to have a bit of a crush on a stranger. It wasn't as though she was about to ask him for his name or anything.. She only thought he was attractive from afar. Girls did that all the time with celebrities, what difference did it make that he wasn't famous?

What really made her notice him, though, was the way he always seemed to be watching her out of the corner of his eye. He'd always pretend to be busy reading when she caught him, but she knew. Maybe he had a weird crush on her, too. It wasn't _that_ odd to think that he might.

"Pull it together, Grayson," she muttered to herself as she passed by the bench he occupied one day in December, just before Christmas break. She was such a loser. If she ever decided to tell Lian about her dumb crush on some random guy, she'd get made fun of so bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comic credit: The entire idea of the Red Casebook Entry is from Batgirl v3 #17 (my very favorite issue of any comic ever!). Granted, it's probably a Red Casebook because he's Robin, but I don't care, I used it anyway. The space treehouse thing is right out of Kingdom, including the wording I used to describe it, so that's not mine. Covenant of Ka and Council of Spiders are both assassin organizations from Red Robin, although in that comic it was the Council of Spiders that were killing other assassins. That was a very minor plot arc so if the lore got you down, don't worry about it too much. The whole team of the new Titans Mar'i puts together is from Kingdom.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> College, a date, Christmas, another Valentine's Day, and Mar'i gets attacked while on patrol.

" _Red Casebook Entry #1010. January 23, 2012._

"I have enrolled in Gotham University. It is a formality, as I surpassed this level of knowledge years ago. I have made contact with the target as few times as possible, although she has noticed me. I must not underestimate her skills."

…

Valentine's Day. Since she broke up with Luke, it kind of sucked. Not that she was one of those girls that _needed_ to have a boyfriend. She just didn't think it was fair that she didn't have anyone to give her roses while some of the stuck-up, bratty girls at her school toted around chocolate and flowers and cards and whatever else boys gave girls as presents. It was enough to put anyone in a bad mood.

And then her stupid calculus teacher gave each student a rose. He'd been doing it all day, and he did it every year—his wife was a florist or something—so it wasn't as though it was creepy or anything. And ordinarily, Mar'i would think it was kind of cute. But after a day of sulking, it felt like life was giving her a pity flower.

Ooh, poor Mar'i didn't get a flower on Valentine's Day. Let's fix that and make her suffer through calculus at the same time.

Thanks, life.

The ground was dusted with snow, the powdery kind that got stuck in the grooves of most pairs of boots.

Like the kind she was wearing today. And, because Mar'i wasn't having a crappy enough day as it was, she slid and fell right on her butt in the middle of the park. A few obnoxious boys laughed at her, which made her blush as much as she wanted not to care.

She scrambled over to the nearest bench after dusting the snow off the backside of her jeans and she pulled her ankle up onto her knee to scrape snow out of the grooves in her boot.

"Are you okay?"

Mar'i jumped and almost fell off the bench. Great. "X'hal," she muttered under her breath. Then, to the mysterious boy she'd been harboring a stalker-crush on since October, she said, "Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to barge over to your bench and take up all your space."

He didn't smile at her. He just observed her, and that made her blush again, out of nervousness. "The bench is not mine."

She laughed nervously, jumping up and standing as quickly as possible. "Yeah. Silly me, I was being dumb." She took one step and, because she hadn't cleared the snow away from her other boot, she fell again. She heard her calculator and her agenda pad clatter onto the slightly snowed-on sidewalk behind her as they tumbled out of her backpack. She was really embarrassed, now.

A hand—tan, despite the season, and callused in all the right ways—reached out to her. She accepted it blindly, in no position to reject a kind gesture from someone else, and she was surprised when she realized it was icy blue eyes that were looking down at her.

If it was possible, she blushed even harder. "Um, thanks. My boot… it's…"

"Yes. I suggest a newer pair."

"Haha," Mar'i laughed nervously. "Yeah. You're probably right." She turned and scooped up her things. "Well, I'll see you on Friday," she said with a smile.

His eyes narrowed instantly. "You'll what?"

She paled. Why had she said that? She should change her superhero name from Nightstar to Blabbermouth. "Um, nothing. I… I noticed that you're here on Tuesdays and Fridays, now. I mean, you used to be here every day, but I guess something changed. Job, right? Or school?" Why couldn't she stop talking? She was seriously considering starbolting the young man so she could stun him and make a clean escape. "I'm not a stalker," she informed him bluntly. "I'm just, um, really observant."

It was true. Her father always taught her to notice things, especially patterns, and this man sitting at the same bench all the time was definitely a pattern. Maybe that was why she noticed him in the first place.

"I'm sure you are," he said flatly.

Mar'i wasn't sure how to take that. "Yeah. So, um, bye. See you around, I guess." And she motored out of there.

Mar'i's observation skills did not help her realize that she left the rose from her calculus teacher on the snowy ground at the young man's feet, where it had fallen out of her backpack.

…

" _Red Casebook Entry #1019. February 14, 2012._

"The Grayson girl left me a rose. She must have been watching me more closely than I thought. I behaved as naturally as possible, but she must suspect me. I cannot attack as planned. I must lay low. The initial attack has been pushed back until I can assess precisely what she knows about. I am taking the rose to my apartment for analysis."

" _Red Casebook Entry #1020. February 14, 2012._

"It is simply a rose. I do not understand. What does this mean? What game is this girl playing?"

…

"No, haha, he's on the bench now."

Mar'i had gotten a new phone for her birthday, and she was pretty much addicted. Texting, twitter, tumblr, even asking cha-cha random things over text. It didn't help that Lian encouraged these behaviors. Like right now. She was sitting on a bench at the park, minding her own business, when Lian texted her. And brought up the mystery guy, whose name, Mar'i had figured out through more 'accidental' meetings, was Damian West.

"Take a pic!" Lian texted back.

Mar'i glared at her phone. "I'm not going to take a picture!" she typed.

"Do itttttt!" was the answer.

Mar'i glanced up at Damian, who was currently busy reading a book, and she raised her phone surreptitiously. So far so good. And now to take the… Oh. Crap. The flash was on.

Damian raised his eyebrows, looking at her with an accusatorily inquisitive expression.

"Um…" she called across the path that separated them. "There was… a… butterfly. And I was taking a picture of it. Which is why my camera flashed." She finished with a fake-confident smile at him.

To her surprise, he actually let an amused chuckle roll from his throat. "Of course."

That made Mar'i a little too giggly, so she cleared her throat. Then she sent the self-sabotaging picture of him to her best friend.

"Ooh, he is cute!" Lian answered. "Does he have a brother?"

"Lol, I don't know. It's not exactly the kind of thing that comes up in conversations."

"Ask him!"

"Quiet, you."

She looked up again as he was looking at her, and she smiled at him. Damian looked surprised for a moment, but then he smiled, too, a little unsurely. Why did he have to be so cute?

…

" _Red Casebook Entry #1057. June 22, 2012._

"Grayson graduated from high school today. Her attitude toward me is perplexing. I continue to push back the mission. I have never had these problems before. Grandfather will soon doubt my abilities. Too much planning has gone into this to waste it now. I will need to strike soon."

…

Now a high school graduate, Mar'i was enjoying her summer immensely. She'd decided to go to Gotham U. That way, she was still here to do patrols in 'haven, she was still within easy reach of a zeta beam to teleport to the Tower if she wanted, and Gotham U was, appropriately, in Gotham. Mar'i happened to be the granddaughter of Gotham's most famous socialite. Maybe it wasn't her greatest characteristic, but she liked the perks. She joined the Honors Program, mostly because her father urged her to. She had some summer reading, but it was nothing too intense.

Her days consisted mostly of talking to Iris on the phone, meeting up with Lian whenever possible, daytime patrols of New York, nighttime patrols of Bludhaven, seeing her aunts and uncles in Gotham…

And the occasional trip to the park. All fruitless. Damian was gone. He completely stopped showing up, as soon as she graduated. Maybe he scored an internship or something and he couldn't go anymore. Oh well. There goes that crush.

She was on a solo patrol. It was Sunday night, so it was pretty slow. Her dad was on the night shift at work, and in her left ear she had an earpiece that allowed them to communicate. It was helpful, because he could tell her if they need meta assistance or if she should stay away from where they were investigating, and she could either ask for police backup or tell him to keep away. They were a dynamic duo, the most cohesive pair since the actual dynamic duo back when Uncle Tim was Robin.

"All good, Starshine?"

Nightstar rolled her eyes. "Yep. Nothing out of the ordinary. It's Sunday night. Nobody's out."

"Then maybe you could cut out early."

"No, Dad. Besides, it's not like I have anything better to do than bum around the house all day long."

"Okay, okay. But be careful."

"Got it."

Nightstar leaned against a brick structure and took her cell phone out of her belt. She usually didn't text on patrols, but Lian was having some kind of argument with Zatara. And there really was no one out.

The she heard it. A very faint rustle. She closed her phone as quietly as she could and she glanced around. Her night vision wasn't as great as her Dad's mask's capabilities, but Tamaraneans had pretty decent night vision and she inherited that from her mom.

Maybe it was some goon escaping from a robbery. Maybe it was more of a domestic thing.

No. That wasn't right. Bad guys usually didn't come to the roof buildings. They wanted to play it safe on the ground. This was either a meta or someone more like her dad. Someone who knew what they were doing.

Steel scraped against steel, and she whirled to face the noise. But there were only shadows. Mari touched the Titans' communicator that was situated on her belt in lace of a buckle and she touched it once. She wasn't an idiot. She knew when she needed backup.

"Who's there?" she demanded, lighting a pink starbolt in her hand and raising it high over her head, illuminating the dark roof. "Show yourself, coward."

Words floated to her ears through the darkness, rough and foreign. A language she didn't know. She still couldn't pinpoint where the voice was coming from, and she felt very sure that the exact reason her mystery guest spoke in the first place was to throw her off.

A fist, shrouded in a black glove, knocked her between the shoulder blades from behind. One of her wrists was grabbed as she fell forward and it was twisted against her back, pulled sharply as pain shot through her arm up into her shoulder. She tried to wrench herself away, but the man's other hand fisted her hair, yanking her head back painfully.

"Let me go," she growled.

Laughter and more speaking. She definitely didn't know that language.

That steel sound again. Nightstar pushed herself off the ground, twisting her arm even more but using her inherited strength to pull herself out of the man's grasp. She landed behind him. He was wearing a gray, hooded cloak over a black and white body suit. It looked stab proof, but she wasn't sure about bullet proof. He must not be from around Gotham, judging by the outfit and the language. The hood was flipped up, so she couldn't get a very good image of what his face looked like.

He turned so fluidly, it was as though they were doing an intricate dance. That annoyed Nightstar. One of his legs swept under both of hers, and she used flight to turn her fumble into a back handspring.

"Who are you?" she demanded, eyes glowing.

He smirked at her and seemingly answered. She couldn't understand what he was saying, but it didn't sound like a name.

She had had enough of his annoying teasing in another language. Fixing the language barrier was easy for a half-Tamaranean, but getting close enough to him to do it would be difficult. Flicking open her own bo-staff, Nightstar narrowed her eyes challengingly.

Her opponent drew out a sword. She was not expecting that, but she didn't let it throw her. Why had she refused to do sword practice with her dad? Oh, yeah. Because no one used swords, to use her own words.

Without giving her any time to prepare, he rushed her. The sword slashed over her head, and she ducked in the nick of time. If this was an anime or a cartoon, her hair would be a few inches shorter.

He took another swing, and she blocked it with her staff. Tried to, anyway. The sword cut right through it, and she got a nasty cut on her arm. She wasn't used to this. Swords. Who used swords, anyway? If anyone used them, it would be ninja-assassins. So it made sense, in the least funny ironic twist possible.

While he was busy talking in that stupid language, Nightstar grabbed the front of his cloak and dragged his face down next to hers.

It wasn't a kiss. She knew that, but he didn't. Shock made his body go slack for a second before he came back to life, driving a fist into her stomach. She bit down on his lip before he managed to shove her off him.

He raised gloved fingers to his lower lip, then licked the blood away even as it bled. He moved to fix his hood, which had become askew during the language transfer. He was still in the shadows, so she couldn't get a good read on his face. "Damn slut," he growled to himself.

She made an indignant noise in her throat. "You wish!"

His eyes—blue, she noticed now, visible even in the shadows—widened in surprise. As though he sensed she was able to identify what part of him looked like, he tugged his hood back into place. "You speak Arabic?"

"Apparently." She jabbed two punches at his torso, and while he was rearing back to punch her, she grabbed his hood and lowered it over his eyes.

"Mar'i? You okay?"

"Can you check back in five minutes?" she growled into her earpiece.

Silence, then, "Is that Arabic?"

"Dad! Five minutes!" she shouted in English. Sometimes, when she used a language transfer, it was difficult to tell which language she was speaking when.

The strange man held his sword diagonally, ready for her to attack.

"Who are you?" Nightstar demanded again, this time in Arabic.

"I told you. I am the son of the demon."

"Is that your full name, or do you have a nickname you prefer?"

"You may call me al Ghul. It is your right to know the name of the man who will kill you."

"Al Ghul! I know that name!"

"I suppose, then, that you are only half as stupid as you look." He began inching toward her.

"Wait. Kill me?" she demanded, her voice rising in pitch. "Why? What did I ever do to you?"

"You were born." He reached into his cloak and then, with a flare of light, inky black smog filled the air between them.

Nightstar began panicking. She was not good in zero visibility. She lifted into the air to fly over the smoke, but she was caught by the ankle and slammed into the ground on her back. The breath was knocked out of her and she breathed in the black smoke too deeply. She felt like she was suffocating. A sword scraped against the ground. He was letting her know he was there without giving her a chance to escape.

"Dad," she whispered as she tapped the earpiece. Her ears were ringing and she couldn't quite tell if he answered her. She shut her eyes and continued. "I love you. Mom, too. Tell her that. And grandpa and Alfred."

It had been several seconds since she closed her eyes and she couldn't feel any pain. Maybe she was dead already. Slowly, she allowed her eyes to flutter open and she wished she hadn't. Inches away from her nose was the sharp tip of a sword.

"Wh-what are you doing?" she whispered, and she didn't know if she was speaking in English or Arabic or Tamaranean.

"I'm going to kill you," the man snarled back. He didn't, though. He was just staring at her, unless looks could _actually_ kill.

"Why?" Nightstar asked softly. Her mind was beginning to clear. Lighting a starbolt in this type of fog was usually a bad idea, as the fog reflected the light back at her and made zero visibility into _negative_ visibility. But she had no choice.

"Because you stole everything."

Nightstar reared back and let loose a starbolt from her gathered hands. The man was knocked off his feet and back into the fog. At least there wasn't a sword in her face anymore.

"You're going to regret that."

The fog was still thick and he was gone again. She'd need to practice this with her dad, if she made it out.

She closed her eyes and tried to listen. How did her dad do it? Some ninja sense, probably. Mar'i was not a ninja. She was a warrior.

A hand closed around her throat and she was pushed her into the brick structure. She couldn't breathe.

"I deliver this woman to the hands of God or Lucifer in service to the League of Shadows." Nightstar was panicking, which was no good for her starbolts or for her strength. If only she could shoot them from her eyes like her mother. "No… in service to myself."

She could see the sword. It was coming at her fast.

Then it was gone, and she hit the ground hard.

"Leave her alone!"

Lian. She answered the distress signal from the buckle on Nightstar's belt.

"Star might be awful with smoke, ninja guy, but I can find a penny on the ground in this stuff," Lian taunted. "Come on out and play."

"Li…" Nightstar croaked. Her throat was very sore from being choked.

"Shush. I can't tell if he's gone."

She was choking and Lian shushed her. Unbelievable.

Even in her state now—hardly breathing, sore all over, and still slightly panicked, Nightstar heard the soft thud of a pair of feet on the roof. She couldn't tell if they were coming or going.

"Li…" she gasped, trying to warn her friend. Someone was coming. Very possibly someone with a sword with her name on it.

"It's okay, Starshine." That was her father. He crouched down next to her and tilted her head toward him, studying her face. "We'll have to bandage that arm. You're gonna be okay."

She closed her eyes and let the black fog swallow her up.

…

" _Red Casebook Entry #1077. July 8, 2012_

"I made my attack. It did not go as planned. The Grayson girl, dressed in her uniform, sexually assaulted me. What's worse is that I think she did it to steal my knowledge. She spoke to me in Arabic directly after. I was not aware of that ability. She's forced me to retreat again. I'll need to observe her in action."

…

After the whole 'stalked by an assassin' thing, Dick had grown even stricter in regards to Mar'i's patrols. He wouldn't let her patrol on her own anymore, only with Iris or Lian, and on one occasion, Zatara. Probably as a favor to Lian.

What made her father's strictness even worse was her mother's accordance. Her mother _never_ took her father's side. Without her for backup, Mar'i felt smothered. After years of letting her asteroid treehouse stay unused, she took Iris and Lian there for a breather. She locked both the door to her room and her closet door, from the inside. If her dad came looking for her, hopefully he'd get the hint.

"At least you start college soon," Iris told her as the three girls stretched out to watch the Vegan star system float in space before their eyes.

"I know. I kind of wish I chose to live on-campus now. I can't deal with it."

"You don't wanna live on-campus," Lian corrected her quickly.

Lian, who was a year older than Mar'i, lived with her father in Star City, but she chose to attend Hudson University in New York. Probably because she wanted to be closer to both Titans Tower and Zatara, who lived mainly out of the city when he wasn't on a magic show tour or whatever he called it.

"Are you sure? I think I might," Mar'i answered dully.

"Absolutely. Drunk kids, loud kids, roommates. Home is better."

"Thanks for trying to cheer me up, Li."

"Hey," Iris said brightly, nudging her in the ribs, "at least now you have perfect boyfriend-scouting opportunities."

Mar'i laughed at Iris as she wiggled her eyebrows goofily. "Please. The _last_ thing I'm thinking of right now is a boyfriend."

"Are you _that_ hung up on Luke?" Lian asked bluntly. "Really, he's nothing special."

"No," the half-alien snapped defensively. "It's just that I have other things going on right now. Like trying to find out why the League of Shadows wants me dead."

"All work and no play makes Grayson a dull girl."

"Quit it, Li. There's no one I'm even interested in right now. I don't think going into college, with classes and homework and barely any time for patrols, is gonna fix that."

"You never knowwwww," Lian sang.

…

" _Red Casebook Entry #1112. August 27, 2012._

"Grayson began attending Gotham University. I have coordinated our classes whenever possible. She is more intelligent than I estimated. I will need to give myself an advantage in order to annihilate her as quickly and cleanly as possible."

…

She'd almost forgotten about him. Damian West. The mysterious boy from the park in Bludhaven that she had a little crush on for a few months last year. Who would have thought she'd run into him at Gotham University?

He was a year ahead of her, but he seemed to be taking a lot of the same Gen Ed classes as she was. He must commute from Bludhaven, too.

That was her thinking when she slid into the seat next to him during their Physics lecture. She didn't need to concentrate on Physics, anyway.

"Damian?" she whispered as the professor watched students file in a few minutes before class started.

He turned to her and raised his eyebrows.

"Ah, I don't know if you remember me. Mary? I used to run into you in the—"

"Bludhaven Axis Park. Yes, of course I remember you. I must say, I'm surprised to see you here."

"I know! What are the chances?"

He cocked his head at her. "Well, considering Bludhaven and Gotham's proximity, the number of Universities nearby, and the age population of eighteen to twenty-four year olds who are most likely still in school, the chances are most likely between—"

"Haha, no, you goof. I meant that it's cool to see you here."

Damian nodded somewhat awkwardly.

After the lecture, Mar'i turned to him again. "I'm all done for the day."

"As am I," he answered as he pushed his way through the crowd of people exiting the hall.

"So… I mean, do you drive?"

"Pardon me?"

"Did you drive here?"

"Oh. No. I take the trains. Living in an urban setting, I never found driving a very pressing matter."

"Yeah, me either. But my dad insisted I drive _something_ , and I hate motorcycles. Need a ride back to Gotham?"

The young man fixed her with the most hopeful look she'd ever seen in her life. She giggled. "Come on. The parking lot's across campus, so we have to walk."

"Shouldn't you be more careful about who you allow in your car with you?" Damian asked quietly.

"I know you. It's fine." She fixed him with a bright smile and she joked, "I won't kidnap you if you don't kidnap me, okay?"

…

" _Red Casebook Entry #1167. November 3, 2012._

"A storm blacked out the entire city on Monday, along with Gotham, New York, many towns in Connecticut and, eastern New York, and most of New Jersey and Long Island. It was the perfect opportunity to finally end Grayson—her father left her on Wednesday to go to New York and help there—yet I made no move to finish her. I keep letting opportunities slip by. I am Damian Wayne. I am the heir to the al Ghul Empire. I am the son of the Bat. I am certainly capable of ending the insignificant life of a silly girl."

…

"You never let me do anything!" Mar'i shouted angrily as she snatched her scarf off the hooks that usually held coats near the main door of the Grayson household.

"We always have the same two fights," Dick told her as he snatched her hat out of her hands before she could pull it onto her head.

"That's because you never change." The eighteen year old grabbed her jacket before her father could move it out of her reach.

"Stop it, Mar'i, that's not true. You're so stubborn, just like—"

"Don't say it," his daughter snapped. "It'll make everything worse.

Dick rubbed his hand through his hair. "They don't even celebrate Christmas on Tamaran."

"I know that, Daddy, but _I_ celebrate Christmas. Maybe _I_ wanted to see her, for me. Didn't you ever think about that? Don't you ever thing of me?"

"Starshine, I'm always thinking of you. Constantly. Especially since that attack this summer. But you can't go to Tamaran. You don't understand, Mar'i. Things aren't—"

"Of course I don't understand! You never tell me anything!" She reached for her gloves at the same time as her father, and she ended up trying tear them out of his grip.

"Okay, I hear what you're saying, but if you take a minute to hear me out, you'll understand why we never gave you a Tamaranean education. You're blowing this whole thing out of proportion."

With a final yank and a ripping sound, Mar'i tore the gloves away from her father. She slid her hands into them. Four of the fingers had the tops ripped off on each glove. "I'm going out."

"It's Christmas Eve. Don't go anywhere. Calm down for a second."

"No offense, Dad, but I think I'll be a lot calmer once I'm out of here." She felt bad for a fleeting second as her father gave her a desperate look, but she was too angry to really care. She stepped out into the snow and she lifted into the air. Flying out of uniform was usually a bad idea, but right now she didn't trust herself to drive.

She couldn't go to Lian or Iris. She could get to Star or Keystone City in a few minutes at her top speed, but it was Christmas Eve. They were with their families.

There was one person, though, that she knew lived by himself. He'd mentioned that he cut ties with his mother, so maybe he'd like a visitor on Christmas Eve.

She landed in downtown Bludhaven in front of Damian's apartment complex.

…

" _Red Casebook Entry #1196. December 24, 2012._

"I watched Grayson engage in an argument with her father. She is distraught. I will offer her comfort, and when I have lured her to my apartment, I will strike."

…

She knocked on his door. She'd only been up here once before to use his bathroom when she dropped him off after class one day.

The door opened a few inches and an icy blue eye looked at her over the chain on his door. "Mary?"

"Yeah. I… Can I come in?"

The door closed and opened a few seconds later. "Is everything all right?"

Mar'i breezed past him and took a seat on his couch. Damian closed the door behind her and watched her carefully. "I just had an argument with my dad," she explained, covering her face with her hand. "You know how it is."

Damian took a seat on the armchair across from her. "I never met my dad."

Mar'i winced. "I'm sorry. I guess me running in here complaining about mine seems pretty stupid when you never even got to meet yours."

"No. It's quite all right."

"Thanks. I didn't know where else to go. I hope I'm not ruining your Christmas."

He furrowed his brow and stared at her. "My what?"

Mar'i blinked at him. "Christmas?"

He narrowed his eyes and fixed her with a distrustful expression. "I don't understand."

"Christmas! You know… Mary at the inn, Baby Jesus, frankincense, gold, and myrrh…" Mar'i paused and she gaped at him a little before continuing. "Angels? The first Noel?"

He continued looking at her suspiciously.

"Oh man. I mean… I don't wanna be rude, but how do you not know about Christmas? Even if you're not Christian or religious or anything… Still." He didn't answer and his posture became somewhat sulky, so Mar'i looked around for his television remote and grabbed it. She flicked to the Christmas cartoons that always played around the clock on December twenty-fourth and twenty-fifth. "Um, it's like… Jesus, right? He died on the cross or whatever?"

"Of course I know about _that_ ," Damian answered. "Of course, the mythology does get weighted with religious significance. He is the Christian equivalent to Prometheus."

Now Mar'i looked at him blankly before deciding to ignore that. "So Christmas is his birthday. The Virgin Mary had this baby in a barn because—"

"Tt. This is a ridiculous story."

"Shush." Despite Damian not actually seeming that interested in the story, he listened as she spoke. And when she finished the story, she told him about various Christmas traditions—Santa, presents, stocking, elves, and for good measure she mentioned Easter and the traditions associated with that, too.

When she finished, she looked a little sad. "Oh, man. I shouldn't be here. I should be with my dad. He's probably upset."

Damian fixed his gaze on the window, looking somber. Mar'i looked, too, and she saw a complete whiteout. Snow was blowing by in flakes so thick and heavy, there was no space between one and the next.

"No!" she wailed, and she dove for the remote again. Damian had to jump out of the way to keep from being inadvertently tackled. The weather channel showed that this weather would keep up until three or four in the morning. She could still get home, but her father didn't like her flying in weather like this. "Do you have a phone?" she asked Damian. "I left my cell phone at home.

Wordlessly, he pointed at the receiver on the wall and nearly had to duck as Mar'i rushed past him to get it.

"Daddy?" she demanded as soon as he picked up the phone.

"Starshine," he answered, sounding relieved.

Mar'i blushed and glanced back at Damian. Once she had determined that he probably didn't hear her father's pet nickname for her, she turned her attention back to the phone.

"I'm so sorry, Dad. I didn't mean to get so mad. I know there's a bunch of things that you didn't tell me because you were protecting me, or I wouldn't understand, or whatever good reason you had. But sometimes I feel so left out, you know?"

"That's okay. Babs and Ted came over to say hi and they're stuck here now because of the storm. Where are you?"

"Oh. Um, I'm at Damian's apartment."

"Damian?" Dick demanded, sounding very annoyed that the name she supplied him with was a boy's name.

"Oh stop it, Daddy. He's my friend." She glanced at Damian, who was watching one of the cartoons that was still playing with a mixture of interest and suspicion. "I trust him. But, I mean… I can probably get back tonight if you want."

"No. Don't do that. I wish we were in Gotham, this would be much easier. Stay there, but sleep on the couch, understand?"

"Dad!" she hissed into the phone.

"I'm coming by in the morning to get you."

"But the streets won't be—"

"I'll walk if I need to."

"Fine. Love you."

"Love you, too. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Daddy."

She hung the phone up and turned to Damian. "Okay, so, looks like I'm stuck here."

"Because of the storm?" Damian asked, and his hand twitched near his pocket.

"Yeah. I mean, if it's okay with you."

"Of course," Damian answered, and he smiled what occurred to her then may have been the first real smile she'd ever seen on him, and it made her smile, too.

…

" _Red Casebook Entry #1197. December 25, 2012._

"I neglected to eliminate the target. Grayson has fabricated this 'Christmas' and the story of a child born to a virgin to confuse me."

" _Red Casebook Entry #1198. December 25, 2012._

"After some research, I am able to conclude that Grayson has not fabricated Christmas. These rituals are strange."

…

Mar'i sighed. It was Thursday, and because of their new schedules for the spring semester, Mar'i got out of class a half hour before Damian did, thanks to his lab. She'd taken up waiting for him in the small park on-campus, then driving him home on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

Nothing against Valentine's Day really, but man, people were annoying about it. She supposed that's what she got for sitting in the park on Valentine's Day, but couples were _everywhere_. Holding hands on other benches, going for strolls, kissing.

She was sulking so furiously that Damian had to wave his hand in front of her face to get her attention when he finally got out of class.

"Oh… hi. Sorry," she mumbled, grabbing her tote bag and slinging it over her shoulder as she stood.

He looked in the direction that she had been absently staring before. "What's going on?" he asked, and Mar'i guess he was referring to all the couples.

"Oh. Um, it's Valentine's Day, silly." Long, quick steps got them out of there quickly, but it was too late. Damian had already picked the topic of conversation.

"Another holiday?" he demanded dully. "What's this one for?"

"I don't know. Couples, and stuff."

He raised an eyebrow at her.

"It's stupid, honestly. Boyfriends and girlfriends get each other stuff—cards, chocolates, flowers—"

"Roses?" he demanded. "Red roses?"

She furrowed her eyebrows at him. "Um, yeah, roses. Or whatever flower the girl likes. It's just an excuse for stores to sell expensive chocolate and sappy cards."

"You don't like Valentine's Day?" Damian questioned, sounding mostly curious.

"Not really, I guess. Why's there need to be a dumb made up holiday condoning gross amounts of PDA?"

"I see."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded as she unlocked her car.

"Nothing," Damian answered hastily. "You just seem jealous."

"Jealous?" she spluttered. "Are you serious right now?"

"I'm afraid so."

"I'm _not_ jealous. It's not like my day is ruined because I don't have a boyfriend." Her eyes settled on him as they clambered into her car. "I mean, not that I even _want_ a boyfriend. If I wanted a boyfriend, I could so get one whenever I wanted."

"Huh?"

"It's not like I'm holding out or anything," she explained.

"I didn't say you were."

"Shut up. Girls don't _need_ to have boyfriends."

"Grayson, I'm not trying to imply that they do! I apologize for bringing it up?" he tried, looking confused and the slightest bit amused.

"I… sorry." Mar'i mumbled, thoroughly embarrassed.

…

" _Red Casebook Entry #1225. February 14, 2013._

"I understand now why Grayson presented a rose to me last year. It is Valentine's Day. Some holiday celebrated because a monk was beheaded hundreds of years ago. It has occurred to me, rather belatedly, that I have never had cause to celebrate Valentine's Day. Not that women spurn my advances. Indeed, I doubt even Grayson would be able to contain her joy if I showed interest in her. My genetics are perfect, after all. I wonder if she has ever celebrated Valentine's Day.

"Delete recording #1225.

" _Red Casebook Entry #1225. February 14, 2013._

"An odd conversation with Grayson has left my thoughts scattered. Perhaps it is a distraction technique. I must be on alert around her. The Bat-family will fall."

…

"No."

"Please, Damian? You're the only person I could go to for help."

"Stop sniveling, Grayson. I won't do it."

"I'll buy."

"Don't be ridiculous. That's insulting, primarily, and that's not the point."

"I'll do your English homework for a month!"

He actually seemed to consider that for a moment before frowning at her. "I said no."

"I'll cry."

"What?"

"Yeah. I'll cry in front of everyone here and make a huge scene."

"Don't do that," Damian hissed, already glancing around at all the people that were rushing around them.

Mar'i had cornered him as he was coming out of the main building of Gotham U, which had a series of stairs, a brick courtyard type of structure, and then more stairs. They were on the courtyard, and already people were pushing at them in a rush to get to their classes.

"I will if you don't help me out," she warned, and already she was blinking rapidly as tears rose to the surface of her green eyes- hologrammed, of course, but still bright green.

"Stop it. Fine, you manipulative…" He cut himself off as Mar'i raised a challenging eyebrow at him. "Fine, I'll go." He paused, looking angry with himself for being so easily persuaded, and he added a halfhearted, "Damn you."

"Yeah, yeah. All that matters is that you said you would go and you can't take it back."

And that was how she ended up going on a double date to the movies with her friend Phoebe and Damian as her date.

"And why can't Phoebe go with this person on her own?" Damian demanded, exasperated. Mar'i had stopped at her Aunt Steph's house for acceptable date clothes, and as Damian was speaking she shoved her foot into a slightly-too-small shoe while she was closing her car door behind her.

"Because she doesn't know if she wants to get back together with him and she wanted to have someone there that she could skip out with if things got too weird, but Johanna was busy and Amanda had—"

"Enough. I get it. And why me?"

"Because I thought you'd be honored to have the opportunity to take me somewhere?" she tried with a bright smile as she shut the car door and tested Steph's shoes.

"Try again," Damian deadpanned as they entered the theatre.

"Oh, come on. I didn't want to be the third wheel on their date, and we're already friends. It's not a date if you don't want it to be."

Damian tensed, stopping short, and Mar'i walked into his shoulder.

"Ouch! What'd you do that for?"

"Wh-what do you mean, if I don't want it to be?"

"Oh," Mar'i answered as she realized what she said. "I didn't mean it like that. I mean that you're awesome and all, but I wasn't asking you on a date. You're my friend, Damian."

He still looked like she'd presented him with a puppy that he didn't want but didn't know how to say no to accepting.

"Look, if you feel weird about doing this… I didn't mean to back you into a corner."

He flicked his gaze up to her, which effectively shut her up, somehow. "Move it, Grayson. This is a one-time deal."

Mar'i's friend called them over, and before she towed Damian over to her, Mar'i squeezed Damian's hand and muttered, "Thank you."

…

" _Red Casebook Entry #1286. March 29, 2013._

"Grayson has manipulated me into attending a date with her. I must kill her. Everything depends on it. My inheriting the League of Shadows hangs in the balance. What's more, my own vendetta. Mar'i Grayson has the life I should have had. She's stolen it from me. Yet, something holds me back. Why didn't I kill her in July? I suppose it was knowing that as she faced death, one of her last thoughts would have been of my father. Dammit, I should not have hesitated. My mother would not have hesitated. No al Ghul would have."

" _Red Casebook Entry #1287. March 29, 2013._

"Would the Batman have hesitated?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comic credit: Hudson University is the school Dick Grayson attended and dropped out of during New Teen Titans v1. As far as I know, it's not real, although it could be a real university that changed its name. I'm too lazy to properly Google.
> 
> Fun fact: The Red Casebook Entry from November 3, 2012 is about Hurricane Sandy. Real life, stay out of my fanfics!
> 
> 'Damian West' is not Damian's real name or anything. I figured, the Bat-family doesn't know anything about Damian anyway, so why not give his real first name out. He'd obviously have to make up a fake last name, as he couldn't go telling people that he was related to Bruce Wayne. I chose West because Adam West. (I know it's Wally's last name. West is a common name. Nyeh.)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian talks to a recorder, punches some ninja in the face, and gets a cat.

Mar'i hurried through the halls of Damian's apartment complex, flying up the stairs to the correct floor instead of walking up them. She threw on civilian clothes over her Nightstar uniform and she slipped on her hologram ring. She didn't like the ring. She preferred the earrings, and even the pendant felt more secure than the ring. It didn't help that she was soaked from the torrents of rain that were hammering down on Bluhaven. But it was all she had on her.

Landing in front of Damian's door, she knocked as loudly as she dared at this hour of night. "Damian, open up! It's me! Hurry!"

To her shock, the door swung open at the end of her sentence. A strong hand wrapped itself around her wrist and pulled her into his dark apartment.

"What're you—?!"

He interrupted her by pressing his hand over her mouth. "Don't panic. Who's chasing you?"

"Nu-mun chafing bme!" she mumbled into his hand, looking up at him, confused.

He gave her a look of pure bewilderment and hastily removed his hand. "Then why are you banging on my apartment door at two in the morning on a Saturday?"

She dropped her gaze to her arms, which held swaddled up blankets. "Because of this," she told him worriedly, biting her lip.

Damian rearranged the blankets until he saw a furry, black and white head. He glanced up at Mar'i and back down. "A cat?"

"Yeah. I found it outside, half drowned."

"I don't… Why did you bring it here?"

"I don't know! I panicked, and you were the closest one to me!" She answered defensively, certainly sounding panicked.

"Okay, stop shouting. What were you doing out at two in the morning, anyway?"

Mar'i froze for a second before blurting, "I was at a club."

"In jeans and a t-shirt?" Damian demanded, scrutinizing her.

She glanced down at the clothes she threw on over her Nightstar uniform. Damian had a point—as they covered clothes that she already wore, they were pretty conservative. "Shut up! I look fine! Would you please concentrate on the emergency at hand?" She turned to his fridge and produced a gallon of milk, then she rummaged in his cabinets until she found a dish. She poured the milk in the dish and tried to set the kitten in front of it.

"Hey! What are you doing, Grayson? Cats don't drink milk," Damian scolded, taking the dish away and dumping it in the sink.

"What? Yes, they do!"

"Says who? A veterinary specialist? I think not," Damian scoffed, filling the dish with water.

"Nooooo," Mar'i answered, annoyed. "Says every story book I've ever read."

"Are you going to tell me more stories about immaculate conception?" Damian asked wearily. "I'm not in the mood."

"Oh my god, that wasn't a story book, that was the story of Christmas. Check yourself, boy."

"Tt." Damian left her in the kitchenette with a dishful of water and the mewling kitten, then he returned with two fluffy dishtowels. "Here. Rub it dry with this."

Without speaking, they each rubbed their towels in little circles over the cat's body. When they finished, it was still shivering. Damian furrowed his eyebrows at the kitten. "Why's it doing that?"

"What, shaking? It's probably scared. It's just a baby. It doesn't know where its mommy is, and two teenagers just assaulted it with dishtowels."

Damian put his palms flat on the island they had set the kitten down on and crouched until he was eye level with the creature. The cat twitched its nose at him and let out a pathetic meow. Damian trailed two fingers between its ears, petting it gently.

"You got a water bottle anywhere?"

He gestured vaguely at the refrigerator, which Mar'i rummaged through until she found a water bottle. She stuck it in the microwave until the water was warm, then she wrapped the dishtowel around it, flipping it over so that the dry side was facing out, and she secured the fabric in place with a rubber band. She placed it on the counter, and the kitten curled up next to it.

Mar'i sighed. "Sorry. I found it in an alley and I panicked. It's so small, you know? And the rain almost killed it, the poor thing. It's so fragile."

Damian's entire demeanor changed. He went from being oddly transfixed with the cat to being unable to tear his gaze away from Mar'i. "Just like people, don't you think?" he asked, gripping the counter so tightly that his knuckles were turning white.

"Damian? Are you okay?"

"People are so fragile." He narrowed his eyes as though he had to concentrate particularly hard on something. "Did you know, Mary, that in martial arts, there are nine ways to kill a person in just one move?"

This was not what she expected. "Um, I thought there were eight?"

Damian focused his eyes on Mar'i, two points of ice boring into her center. She felt like he could see past the hologram. She gulped once. She shouldn't have said that. "I mean, I'm kind of… into martial arts. I guess I'm wrong though?"

He went slack and his eyes dropped to the cat on the counter. "There are nine. Forgive me. I'm tired."

"Yeah. Me too. Well, I'll drop by tomorrow to see if the cat's okay?"

"Yes. Do that," he murmured, still looking at the cat.

"Okay. G'night. See ya tomorrow."

"Good night, Mary."

…

" _Red Casebook Entry #1321. April 15, 2013._

"Mother has visited me. She told me that she will be watching. If I do not kill Grayson, she will do it for me. I cannot decide. I am an assassin. I do not get caught up in the affairs of one girl. One target. But Mar'i has… She enjoys my company. Is my mother using me as a tool? I owe her my existence and thus, my loyalty, but I am beginning to suspect that she does not care for the intricacies of my existence. I am not her tool. I am Damian Wayne. I am the son of Batman. I do not allow anyone to decide what I do and when I do it."

" _Red Casebook Entry #1322. April 15, 2013._

"But I do not know anything other than violence. I know nine ways to kill a person in one move, one I designed myself. In any situation, I am prepared to fight my way out of a room. I cannot shake twenty years of learning in one night."

" _Red Casebook Entry #1323. April 15, 2013._

"It has not been one night. This change in me has been coming for months. I will not kill Mar'i Grayson. I don't want to kill anybody, not anymore. I… I need help."

…

"Hang on, Lian. I have another call coming in. Okay. I'll call you back. Bye." Mar'i blew on her nails and adjusted her hair so that it wouldn't do any damage to the wet polish before she took her phone away from her ear and looked at the screen.

Damian was calling her. That was odd. He _never_ called. She answered it, smudging the polish on the index finger of her right hand, but she found her interest in her nails had diminished down to almost nothing. "Hello? Damian?"

"Mary. I really need someone to talk to. I don't want to worry you, but do you think you could come see me? Soon?"

She pulled her phone away from her ear to double check that this really was Damian. He didn't sound like himself at all. "Soon, like, before classes tomorrow?"

"Yes, sooner than that is desirable."

"Okay. I'll come over now. Do I need to bring anything? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. Thanks, Mary."

"Okay. Hang on, I'll be right there."

She hung up without waiting for him to answer and she grabbed her sweatshirt from where she'd thrown it on her pillow earlier and she bounded down the stairs.

"Where's the fire, Starshine?"

"Ugh, Dad, please. I'm nineteen years old," Mar'i complained, objecting to her father's pet name for her.

"Very well. Lady Mar'i, wherefore art the fire?" Dick teased his daughter.

She rolled her eyes at him. "Wherefore means why, not where."

"College is paying off, I see."

"Yeah. I'm going to Damian's," she told her father.

"Are you?"

"Stop, Dad, seriously. He called me and sounded really weird on the phone."

"Weird, how?"

"I dunno. Weird, weird. Don't wait on me for dinner, okay? I might be back late. I'll text you."

"Okay. I'm working early tomorrow, remember."

"Okay. Talk to you later. Love ya."

…

" _Red Casebook Entry #1324. April 15, 2013._

"I have called Mar'i to my apartment. I will explain everything to her. Maybe she will be able to persuade my father to help me."

…

"Damian!" Mar'i called as she opened the door to his apartment. He hurried over to her and locked it behind her. "What's going on?" she demanded as he slid the chain into place on the door.

"Sit," he said with a gesture to his couch.

She backed up until the back of her knees hit the seat of the couch and she let herself sink onto it. "What's up?"

He looked hesitant for a moment, then he ran his hand through his hair and sighed. "I know who you are."

Mar'i felt her eyes widen and suddenly she was too hot. "Excuse me?"

"I know, Mary. Or would you prefer Mar'i? I know that you're Nightstar. And that your dad is Nightwing." She was staring at him in shock, so he continued nervously. "I also know the identities of Red Robin, Batgirl, Oracle, Blue Beetle, Red Hood—"

"Stop it," Mar'i commanded, standing. "Stop it right now, Damian."

"I'm sorry," he blurted, and he ran his hair through his hair again. Ordinarily, she'd find the gesture a little distracting, but not now. "I don't know how this got so out of hand."

"So, what, you've been trying to use me to get close to them?"

"No! I mean… Well, that was the plan. Well…"

"Spit it out, will you?" she cried, standing and spreading her hands out.

"You have to understand," he pleaded. "I was raised by the League of Shadows."

She stared at him dully. After a few moments, she managed, "I don't like this."

"I didn't have any choice. I didn't know any better. I started training on my fifth birthday. I was indoctrinated before I could make a decision of my own. If I knew then what I know now, I would have fought back."

"Why are you telling me this?" she demanded. "Isn't this betraying the League?"

"Mar'i… My name is not Damian West." She crossed her arms over her chest, annoyed. "My name is Damian Wayne."

"You're lying," she answered immediately.

"Please. I need you to believe me. I was supposed to kill the Batman."

"You bastard," she spat at him. "I trusted you! I spent so much time being nice to you. You can't just do that to a person."

Damian took both her hands in his and held them tight to keep her from leaving. "It didn't matter. I was supposed to kill you."

Mari tugged her hands, but he held firm. "Damian, let go," she growled.

"Wait, Mar'i, I don't want to—"

"Let me go!" On the last words, she charged starbolts in her hands, making Damian swear in Arabic as he shook his hands out.

"That's Arabic," she pointed out.

"Yeah, I know, but Mar'i—"

"That _was_ you, then. The maniac that tried to kill me!" In a fit of anger, she released more starbolts at him. She didn't even know where he got it, but the sound of steel sliding against steel rang in her ears and she found her starbolts being reflected back at her. "What is it with you and swords?" she snapped.

"I told you. I was raised to be an assassin. My grandfather—Ra's al Ghul—wanted me to replace the Batman by quietly rising through the ranks of the Bat-family, but—"

"X'hal, Ra's is your grandfather?"

"Yes." He paused, judging her reaction, and quickly added, "But I'm not like him."

"I think you've already made it very clear that you are," she growled.

"I don't want to kill anyone, Mar'i. Not anymore. I want to help people the way my father does."

She extinguished her starbolts and crossed her arms over her chest. "How can I trust you?"

"I don't have an answer for that," he mumbled, eyes downcast, looking very much like a child being scolded.

"Then I guess that settles that." She meant to leave in an angry rage, maybe knock some of his things over. She found she couldn't really move, and now that she'd yelled at him, she didn't really want to. This was all too much, too fast. Suddenly her best friend was her enemy. Their whole friendship had been a consistent string of lies. Nothing was what she thought it was. Everything changed, yet nothing really changed at all. It was a war between what she knew and what she felt.

Damian wilted, and his eyes fluttered closed, hopelessness painted on his expression. Then he straightened out and dropped her hands, his eyes alight with a directorial spark. "Very well. Mar'i, you need to get out of here."

"Why, you'll kill me for not helping you?" she demanded acidly, although her heart wasn't in it.

"No," he answered calmly. "My mother will. She will not allow me to fail. She plans to kill you." Mar'i dropped her arms to her side in surprise. Damian approached her cautiously. "I desperately do not wish for that to happen." He took one of her hands and squeezed them. "You have a place to go, right? Your grandfather can hide you somewhere in Gotham. I've heard legends about bunkers that he has all over the city."

"What about my father?" she asked softly.

"My mother did not seem interested in him. I believe your death would be my punishment. Your father's death would not mean as much to me." As he spoke the last part, he looked away from her purposefully.

Confused, yes. Hurt, yes. But that didn't mean that everything she felt for him changed in a split second, even if she wanted it to. "Damian," Mar'i breathed, tugging him closer. "You're confusing me."

"I want you safe," he said plainly.

Her heart panged in her chest. But that didn't make her any less confused. "Why?"

"Because…" His eyes fluttered over her face before returning to look steadily into her green ones. Oh, wow, she really liked the color of his eyes. She hadn't been this close to him since the night he tried to kill her. Heat rose to her face as she realized that he must have thought the language transfer was a kiss. Her gaze dropped to his mouth as she also realized with some disappointment that they already had their first kiss. As the thought crossed her mind, Damian slowly and unsurely raised his hand to her cheek.

And they were kissing. She didn't know who kissed whom, and it really didn't matter. Any lingering anger she might have had evaporated. She was taking after her mother, she knew—following her emotions _right now_ instead of worrying about before and after. She pulled at his hair, bringing him closer, and she trailed her fingers down his arms and back up to his chest, then she wrapped them around his neck.

He broke from her and cupped her chin. "You need to get out of here."

"I'm not leaving you," Mar'i answered defiantly.

He narrowed his ice-blue eyes at her. "Must you be so frustrating?"

"What will the League do to you if you don't follow through with your mission?"

Damian stepped away from her. "They'll send someone else to finish it. Which is why you have to leave."

She crossed her arms and sat heavily back on his couch.

"Tt. Can't you… Mar'i, you were ready to storm out of here a minute ago."

"Things change."

He scowled at her. "You can't plan on staying by my side constantly."

The half-Tamaranean smiled sweetly. "Which side of the bed do you prefer?"

There was something satisfying about making the heir to the most prestigious clan of assassins squirm uncomfortably. "You're going to sleep here?"

"Yep."

"Wh-what's wrong with the couch?"

She rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Damian. Where's the fun in that?"

…

" _Red Casebook Entry #1325. April 15, 2013._

"Mar'i would not listen. I find myself overly concerned for her well-being—"

"Hey, what are you doing? I can hear you, you know."

"Quiet. This is important."

"Is that like a diary?"

"It's not… I'll have to edit this out, now, Grayson."

…

As it turned out, Damian preferred the right side of the bed. They didn't fool around before going to sleep. Mar'i wasn't entirely opposed to it, but she really was concerned about everything. Just how much did she trust Damian? He seemed sincere, but maybe that was some ploy he was using. She pretended to fall asleep curled up against his side almost immediately, but he probably knew she was faking with his special assassin senses.

Her father would kill her for this. Not just for falling asleep in the same bed as a boy she really knew nothing about, but for ignoring the logic that something might be wrong here. But he wouldn't understand. Maybe it was part of being a Tamaranean, or maybe it was something deeper than that, but Mar'i _knew_ she could trust him. Then again, maybe she was just deluding herself.

As she drifted to sleep against him, she couldn't help but think the she wasn't.

She woke abruptly to Damian's hand over her mouth as he shook her out of sleep. "Sh," he breathed against her hair.

It was early in the morning. The sky was still hued with pink. Damian slid out of bed, so silently that if she wasn't watching him she wouldn't have thought he moved at all. They'd both fallen asleep in their clothes, so she wondered what he was going through his closet for. She had to stifle a gasp as he pulled two swords out of his closet and slid the holsters over his arms so they crisscrossed on his back.

Her blood pounded in her ears. He must have heard something. But she couldn't hear a thing. "Damian?" she whispered fearfully.

As soon as the word was out of her mouth, a hole opened up in the wall behind her. She raised herself into the air in time to see someone's fist retract into the living room. A foot connected with the wall on the other side, making the hole wider.

Mar'i charged two pink starbolts in her hands and aimed carefully at the hole that was now nearly big enough to fit through.

"Mar'i, wait—!"

He wasn't fast enough. She shot the wall and there was a satisfying thud as a body hit the opposite wall or some furniture. There was a lot of dust from the drywall and Mar'i had to blink multiple times.

She was yanked back out of the air just as a broadsword sliced the air in front of her, burying itself into Damian's mattress and not even stopping when it hit the springs.

Before she could even react, there was the sound of steel clacking against steel. Damian was holding an assassin off even as more were coming in through the gaping hole in the wall.

"How many are there?" Damian barked at Mar'i.

Three on the other side of the wall, two in the room—no, three—and that was only what she could see; no doubt there were more crawling about that were keeping themselves hidden.

"Five?"

"Are you sure?" he asked with a grunt as he parried a slice of the other assassin's blade.

"I—I don't know! How'm I supposed to keep track of ninja assassins?"

Damian unsheathed his second sword and swept it at the man's feet, then arced his other one at his opponent as he jumped. "If you didn't knock down the damn wall I could have counted them first."

Mar'i made an unappreciative noise in the back of her throat and ducked away from Damian. He'd been keeping her behind him, and she appreciated the gesture, but she was nobody's damsel in distress. Especially since this was all Damian's fault in the first place!

"Wait!" he cried, but he was soon distracted by the attacking ninja.

Mar'i spun in a circle while letting off energy as two assassin-ninja surrounded her. They were both hit in the chest and one slammed against the wall, possibly knocked out but it wasn't a sure bet. The second one rolled on the impact and unsheathed a sword, which he used to block the flurry of starbolts she sent at him.

She wasn't as good in hand-to-hand, but her starbolts weren't helping. She'd have to go for close-combat and rely on strength. Mar'i halted her starbolt assault and raised her arm slowly, curling her fingers back to her wrist in an overly showy 'come get me' gesture. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Damian taking on three new opponents. He must be very good.

The ninja circled her slowly until she had her back to Damian, who had knocked out one of his opponents and was slashing at another.

While she lifted a fraction of her attention away from her opponent, he rushed her. She took a shallow wound to her stomach that put her in no immediate danger, although it stung badly. For a moment she worried that the swords were laced with poison, but she had no time to worry about that.

She jump-kicked, attempting to knock the sword out of the man's hand, but his grip was tight. He grabbed her ankle with his free hand as she was kicking, and she took the opportunity to float into the air and grab onto the chandelier that hung over Damian's bed, bending at the hips and kicking with both feet so hard that the man was forced head first into the ceiling.

The chandelier fell onto Damian's destroyed bed and glass littered the floor around it. Oops. Mar'i was observing the scene before her—Damian had reduced the number of his opponents to just one, now—when she was grabbed by the shoulders and pressed against the wall.

The ninja she thought she'd knocked out before stood over her, his elbow pressed against her throat. He took her chin in his hand and forced her to look at him.

"You're a pretty thing. A slut's a slut, though, and Ibn's got to learn that. Sorry my dear," the man crooned in Arabic.

Mar'i spat in his face. There were much more effective ways to deal with him, but his elbow was digging into her collarbone and she was angry. He started back a little without moving much of his weight from her and made to smack her across the face. Using her strength, she broke his hold on her and caught his hand before it connected with her cheek. She twisted it and, wincing, she disconnected his arm at the elbow. A blow to the head silenced his pained moans.

A blade was coming at her, and she didn't have time to react. This is it. All this to die now.

Except she didn't. The man that was aiming to slice her across the throat made a wet gurgling noise as a sword was shoved into his back from behind. He teetered for a moment before crumpling, blood spilling onto Damian's carpet.

"You… you killed him!" Mar'i spluttered as Damian wiped his blade on his ruined bed sheets.

The silence that surrounded after all of the noise—the walls coming down, skin on skin in punches and kicks, the ringing of blades meeting, plus the odd whine in Mar'i's ear that was either from adrenaline or nerves—was oddly deafening, and somehow it felt even more dangerous. Like the eye of a storm.

"It was either you or him," Damian told her with a shrug. "And he was an ass." He glanced around his ruined apartment. "The cops'll be coming. We need to go somewhere we won't be found."

"I know a place," Mar'i offered.

"Where?"

"I'll bring you. You okay with flying?"

He wordlessly put his hand out for her to take.

Mar'i slipped her fingers into Damian's hand and held his wrist in the trapeze hold her father was so fond of and flew him to her house. Her room seemed too clean, too orderly after the free-for-all that was the fight in Damian's apartment.

As she opened the door to her closet, he said nothing but raised a skeptical eyebrow at her. She pulled him in after her and pressed the teleport button.

It was the first time since she'd ever brought a boy (except for her father, of course) to her very special treehouse.

…

" _Red Casebook Entry #1326. April 17, 2013._

"That did not go as planned. My mother hired a squad of ninja to kill Mar'i. We have escaped to some odd place that Mar'i knew of. She calls it a treehouse. Grandfather's ninja are swarming my apartment about now, and probably the Grayson home and shadowing our classes at Gotham University. We cannot leave here yet. We're safe, but Mar'i wants to leave to help the Bat-family. My family. …This is too much, too fast. Mar'i is the only person I can trust, and I have to keep her safe at all costs. If she dies, then the part of me that is resisting will die, too."

…

"Are you okay?" Mar'i asked as Damian pocketed his odd recording device. Sensing that there was something ritualistic and calming about making his stupid recordings, she stayed quiet while he made his recording.

A look of pain on his face, Damian touched his fingers to his forehead and rubbed it slowly. "This is my fault." He removed his hand and fixed Mar'i with an intense look, taking her hand and pulling her closer. He lifted up the hem of her shirt, revealing the cut across her abdomen. Normally, that would have made her bat his hands away or at least blush, but everything was far too solemn to be thinking of any of that. "You almost got hurt," he muttered, and his voice was so steeped in emotion that it made her shiver a little. Dull melancholy dripped from his words, as though he couldn't bear to think about it too much and just saying it made him hurt. "You almost…" His voice cracked, as though finishing his sentence might reverse the earlier events and make it true.

"I'm fine," she reminded him, lifting his hand away from the edge of her wound and lacing her fingers through his. "It won't even scar. Tamaraneans heal quickly."

His ice-blue eyes scanned her face for sincerity before dropping again, and he pushed his hand through his hair after disentangling his fingers from Mar'i's. Drawn-up knees provided a surface on which he rested his chin while he looked out at the Vegan star system before them. He looked miserable.

"Damian, this isn't your fault. Not really."

"You don't know what you're talking about. This entire thing is my fault. I was given the option to infiltrate the Bat-family quietly. If I chose that, maybe I could have avoided this. But I chose a direct attack. I thought it was more… honorable."

Mar'i furrowed her eyebrows in surprise. "Really?"

Damian picked at his jeans. "Yes. I didn't want to betray my father so underhandedly. I guess it doesn't make much of a difference in the end. I betrayed him anyway."

There was silence between them as Mar'i waited for him to stop sulking long enough to pay attention to her. When he snuck a glance at her, she said, "It's not your fault. You were raised by Ra's and Talia al Ghul. You didn't know any better. You never thought of any other way. Your dad will see that."

Damian tensed and Mar'i wondered if he even stopped breathing. "What do you mean?" he asked when he recovered.

"We have to go to him, Damian," she informed him solemnly.

"I can't," he insisted.

Mar'i scolded him with her eyes, giving him a look so sharp it made him shut up. "You can and you will. We have to go to Gotham and get some help, or this will never stop."

Damian considered this. He was formulating a plan. Whether to cooperate or try find some way to avoid Gotham, Mar'i wasn't sure, but at least he wasn't sulking. "Okay. Before we go, we should take care of your stab wound—"

"It's hardly a stab wound!" the half-alien protested, but she was ignored.

"—and find some clean clothes. We'll see what kind of state in which your house stands. My guess is that the next round of ninja my mother sent after us have been there, although we won't detect their presence. With the apartment complex burned, mother will want to keep a lower profile."

"Burned?" Mar'i demanded. "But when we left there wasn't any fire!"

"The League of Shadows covers its tracks," Damian said dully, as though it was obvious.

"Okay, fine, fine. Um, after we get cleaned up, we'll go to the Manor in Gotham, and if we can't make it there we'll hit a Bat-bunker."

"Bat-bunker?" Damian echoed, unimpressed.

"Yes. A Bat-bunker. It's a safehouse, nothing fancy, just a plain room with a medical bay in it and a pantry stocked with non-perishable food."

"I'm aware of the term bunker. But… Bat-bunker?"

"Get used to it. Gramps is fond of Bat-nouns."

Silence fell around them again, and Mar'i hugged her knees close. "Damian?" she asked timidly.

"What is it?"

"With the League setting your apartment on fire… Everyone in that building's dead, aren't they?"

"No."

The answer surprised her and she let it show on her face.

Damian saw her confusion and cupped her cheek, brushing her hair behind her ear. "Assassins don't generally kill outside of their contract. If my assignment was to burn own an apartment complex full of people, I would have pulled the alarm first. They'll most likely be scared, but all right."

That was a relief. Those people would still have to deal with their possessions getting burned down, but hopefully her grandfather would be able to pull some strings as far as insurance was involved. "I think you did make the more honorable decision, by the way," she informed him offhandedly.

"What?"

"In choosing a direct attack instead of sneaking in," she clarified.

Perhaps Damian was not used to getting much praise for his tactics. Maybe he didn't expect her to compliment him for getting them into this situation. Either way, he looked downright shocked that she mentioned that at all. "I… ah, thanks," he mumbled eventually.

She kneeled beside him so that she had some leverage and she wrapped her arms around his neck. "It'll be okay, Damian. We'll get through this. You and me." He didn't appear to be very used to hugs, as he kept his hands planted on the ground at his sides and he tilted his head away from hers.

It looked like he was tolerating the hug and not enjoying it, but he whispered, "Thanks, Mar'i," and that kept her from getting discouraged. As she pulled back, she feathered a kiss on his cheek. He needed her for this.

"Are you ready?" Mar'i asked, standing and wiping asteroid dirt off her jeans in a less than poor attempt to clean them.

…

" _Red Casebook Entry #1329. April 18, 2013._

"We're in Gotham. Mar'i has taken me to a Bat-bunker and we are waiting for the Bat-family to meet us here. I know them. I studied them. I know they will not trust me. Mar'i cannot be made to see that. I am frightened."

…

Bat-bunker number 27 was exactly what she described to Damian earlier. A subterranean hunk of hollowed-out concrete that had a small pantry and a cot with an advanced first aid kit and bright white lighting.

Damian was sitting on the cot, his hands on either side of his knees, his head lowered timidly. Mar'i was standing next to him supportively, leaning against the cot but not sitting on it. Damian had just finished his very long explanation and the silence in the bunker was suffocating.

Her father looked _beyond_ angry, and her Uncle Tim had his arms crossed over his chest, face carefully blank. Grandpa Bruce had his eyes narrowed. Didn't he see how badly Damian needed his approval?

"Okay," Batman said.

Damian's head snapped up, his expression incredulous. Mar'i had a similar reaction. "Okay?" she demanded, confused. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that I hear what you're saying. And obviously we have to take this seriously. Nightstar was attacked."

"We'll need a paternity test, obviously," Red Robin added. "And we'll need to hold 'Damian' for questioning."

"What are you saying?" the half-Tamaranean demanded.

"Mar'i, please," Damian hissed, trying to be meek.

"No. They don't trust you. I get it. You've been training to kill people for most of your life. I don't get why they don't trust me."

"Mar'i, you know that's not the issue," Nightwing said gently.

"Don't. Don't tell me what I _know_. You don't know what I know. If you knew what I know, you' be trying to help instead of looking at Damian like he was a time bomb," she snapped.

"Nightstar. Enough." Batman had this way of making Mar'i quiet when she desperately wanted throw a tantrum. It was infuriating. She crossed her arms and glared at her three male relatives. "We'll work together to solve this. First we need to address the ninja and Talia. Then we'll sort this out."

"Couldn't you at least say _something_ about meeting your long lost son?" she grumbled quietly, although she knew Batman would still hear.

"This isn't the time," he answered.

Biting back a retort, Mar'i crossed her arms and leaned heavily on the cot. Stupid Batman, always getting the last word.

Batman gestured for Damian to follow him, and then he turned to his remaining family and gestured for them to stay.

As soon as they were gone, Red Robin muttered, "This is completely ridiculous. This isn't some kind of romance novel. Why would the League make up a story like this just to get to Bruce? They know all our IDs."

"You're being unfair," Mar'i snapped. "You can't just decide that Damian is untrustworthy and use your bias to combat everything he says."

"It's not unfair. The League is manipulative. How can we trust him when he's the heir to the whole organization?" Red Robin shot back.

She wished her Aunt Steph was there. While her Uncle Tim wasn't exactly a pessimist, he was a realist who believed in covering his tracks. Trusting Damian seemed foolish to him. But how could she explain what she innately knew? There was the fact that Damian hadn't killed her. He obviously had no qualms about killing. He killed the ninja who surprised Mar'i back in his apartment, and probably others beside that. Damian hadn't killed her for a reason. Why couldn't they see that?

"Forget about all that for a minute. Are you okay? You had me worried." Nightwing approached the cot and took his daughter's face in his hands, looking for cuts and bruises. "As soon as heard your friend's—I guess Damian's—apartment caught on fire, I've been trying to find you."

She shook her father off. "I'm fine! I just didn't have a signal for my phone. We had to hide in the treehouse. The ninja were tailing us. We had to wait them out and make a plan."

"Listen, Starshine. About Damian. I can tell you enjoy his company, but if he _is_ Bruce's son, then you—"

Before Mar'i could become too indignant over her father's words, an explosion rocked the Bat-bunker. The three vigilantes glanced at each other quickly before heading toward the ladder that led to the exit. "Mar'i, change first," Nightwing instructed her, and she sighed but ripped open one of the cabinets that housed several different uniforms—there was even a catsuit in here, for Selina Kyle. She threw her uniform on and shot out of the opening.

There had to be at least twenty ninja surrounding them. And, some distance away, Batman and Damian were fighting an assassin on their own. Nightstar gasped, shocked into landing. She'd never met the woman taunting Batman as she watched, but she recognized her immediately, from the resemblance Damian bore to her and from the way Batman seemed oddly off his game.

Talia al Ghul.

"No." The word escaped so softly, Nightstar almost couldn't hear it. Batman was fighting her now, and she was mostly dodging. Talia was speaking, Nightstar could tell, and she could only imagine what the daughter of Ra's al Ghul was saying.

A punch to the jaw brought her back to what was happening closer to her. Her father was brandishing eskrima sticks, her Uncle Tim was using his bo-staff, the end planted into the ground as he swung around it and used his momentum to kick an assailant in the face.

Nightstar lit a starbolt in each hand. The League of Shadows probably informed their men of her abilities, but she allowed herself to imagine that beneath the cloth covering his face and nose, the ninja who'd just punched her looked frightened.

The ninja aimed a punch at her face again, which Nightstar dodged by crouching and, from the ground, she aimed a starbolt up at her opponent's jaw, which hit and knocked him back as effectively as a punch. The ninja turned with the impact, and as his back was to Nightstar he unsheathed a sword. Ah, crap. She was really getting tired of those things. She already knew that the swords could block her starbolts, so she aimed her fists at the ninja's feet. The ground cracked and bits of earth flew up at the ninja. She wasn't successful at actually hitting them, as they jumped much higher than Nightstar thought most full-humans usually could. The ninja landed in a roll, which brought him close enough to put Nightstar in direct danger of getting slashed with the sword. She performed a spin-kick, which was probably not the best move because it left her back open for attack, although the momentum helped knock the sword out of the ninja's hands.

The ninja was much faster than Nightstar, although she was stronger. It was easier for her to shrug off what blows her opponent landed, but thanks to superior speed he landed many. Things were fine until she felt the sharp tip of a sword at the small of her back.

"Keep still, bitch," a voice growled in Arabic. She doused the starbolts in her palms submissively and held them up, her arms bent at her elbows, and the ninja she was fighting tugged down the strip of cloth over his face to stem a bleeding nose. Normally, Nightstar would be able to duck and sweep a kick under her opponent's legs, but she was sandwiched between two of them and she would just get assaulted as soon as she tried anything. She has an idea, but she wasn't sure how much time she would need to do it effectively.

"What were the orders for this one?" the ninja behind her asked his companion in Arabic.

"Death, same as all the others, but she's to be executed in front of Talia's brat."

No time, then. She ground her teeth angrily and lashed out with both arms, one aimed at each ninja, and she let out as powerful a non-lethal burst as she could. The one she was fighting earlier fell back and didn't stir after that, but the other deflected her bolt with his sword. She was reduced mostly to ducking, unable to get close enough to punch and having her starbolts skillfully blocked by the swordsman. He swept the sword under her feet and clipped her on the ankle. She didn't get cut, as her boots were steel-tipped around the soles, heels, and toes, but she was knocked onto her back. Lightning fast, the ninja placed a foot on her stomach and pointed his sword at her neck.

"Be a good little girl and come with me, now, or I might just kill you right here."

"That won't be necessary," a silky voice, feminine without being too high-pitched, interrupted.

The ninja kept the sword aimed at Nightstar's neck as Talia al Ghul stepped into her line of vision. Damian stood right next to her, a gray cloak that seemed standard for the League of Shadows wrapped around his neck, the hood shrouding his face.

Not good.

"Wh-what happened to Batman?" she demanded, attempting and failing to sound as ferocious as possible.

"Knocked out. Don't worry, dear. Like dominos, your organization of vigilantes will fall to the League of Shadows. Batman is simply the last in line. The first domino is you." Talia crouched next to Nightstar and took her chin roughly in her hand. "I can't say I see what my son saw in you. Isn't that right, Damian, dear?"

"Yes, Mother," he answered robotically, his face twisted into a furious look of pained effort even as he was completely obedient. He unsheathed one of the swords on his back and leveled it at Nightstar's neck, and the other ninja bowed and backed away.

"What did you do to him?" Nightstar demanded, glaring at Talia.

"I'm only undoing what you did to him," the woman answered.

"Me?!" Nightstar shouted, confused and angry all at once. "I didn't do anything!"

"When he left us, my son was the optimal assassin. Ruthless, detached, with a desire to please. During his time near you, he's become soft-hearted and rebellious." Talia frowned, her eyes narrowing. She looked like a hawk studying its prey. "I plan to eliminate his problem at the source."

"Mother," Damian growled, teeth clenched. "Stop this."

"You'll thank me for this later, Dami." Sadness ebbed at her voice.

"Tell me how to help you." Nightstar shifted her weight to her hands as she prepared to stand.

"No!" Damian shouted, and she could hear the strain in his voice. "Stay where you are. I'm barely controlling myself."

"Damian. Do it," Talia commanded, and his hand shook violently.

A pair of black feet kicked Damian in the side, the sword narrowly missing Nightstar as he was pulled away. She floated in the air, trying to find a way to pull her father away from Damian as the wrestled. Damian wasn't himself. Damian was lethal.

He was holding Nightwing by the collar, but Nightwing was wearing a defiant smirk. "You don't want to do that."

The young man's brow furrowed in a silent question, which was answered by an electric pulse that knocked him off his feet. Nightwing stood over him, prepared to restrain him or knock him out.

"Dad! Wait!" Nightstar shouted, and she pulled him away as Damian cradled his head in the hand not holding the sword. "We have to help him!"

"Help him? He just tried to kill you. What he needs is a cell in Blackgate."

"No! He's not doing it! It's Talia!" She pointed at the assassin as she hoisted Damian to his feet. "She's controlling him!"

"Don't be ridiculous," Nightwing said seriously. "I know that you liked him, Mar'i, and I'm sorry. But you were deceived."

"Daddy, please," Nightstar groaned desperately. "Just trust me."

Father and daughter separated under the persuasion of Damian's glinting blade. "Just get Talia, Dad. Please."

"Take these." Two spare eskrima sticks were thrust into Nightstar's arms. "Stay safe," Nightwing told her before ducking away.

Damian spun back around and Nightstar brandished the eskrima sticks. "Tell me how to help you," she commanded, concentrating on deflecting the swing of his blade with her father's preferred weapon.

"My mother… I don't know when, but she must have… installed a failsafe." As he spoke, he took vicious strikes at his friend, wincing as they came too close for comfort. "She just needed to say "Ibn al Xu'ffasch.' She's called me that before, but I suppose since I was already obedient to the League's goals, I didn't notice the effects."

"Son of the Bat?" Nightstar translated as she parried a strike from Damian. "How do you stop… being all crazy?"

"Kill you, I presume," he said, lowering one eyebrow.

"Can you try something different?" she demanded, exasperated.

"Tt." Damian dodged a starbolt Nightstar shot through the eskrima stick and deflected another back at her with his sword. "It isn't as though I'm not trying."

"Why didn't you just kill me before?"

"That took a lot of effort. And I've got a splitting headache now." He sliced his sword forward through the air and Nightstar caught it between the two eskrima sticks.

In one fluid motion, she knocked Damian back with a forceful shove and threw her eskrima sticks behind her. She folded her arms behind her back and looked up at him expectantly.

"What are you doing?" he demanded as his body jerked into a standing position.

"I don't think you'll do it."

Damian approached slowly, his body with the skilled agility of a cat stalking its prey while the expression on his face was nothing short of horrified. "Mar'i, pick those up. Now."

"No."

"Do you _want_ to die?!" he demanded.

"Do you want to kill me?" she countered as he stopped before her.

"Of course I don't."

"Why not?"

Damian cursed under his breath and his arms began to shake as he picked a stance. "I don't know!"

"Yes you do," Nightstar sang, ignoring the sword he was clutching in his right hand and staring straight at his eyes.

"Enlighten me," he said through gritted teeth as his arm stretched back.

"Because you like me," she said simply.

"Don't be an idiot, he choked.

"Fight it, Damian. If you can't fight it for you, fight it for me. You can do it," she encouraged, her voice soft but her eyes shining brightly.

"Grayson…" he growled. "Run. Do something. Anything. Don't just stand there while I—"

"Put the sword down, Damian."

"I can't, Mar'i." His voice was pleading.

She gulped. Damian looked pained and his entire body was trembling. The sword was still gripped tightly in his right hand. She raised her hand and closed it over Damian's, holding the hilt with him. "I'm sorry," she mumbled, and she charged a starbolt as fast as she could. The pink energy flowed to her fingers and singed Damian's hand. He dropped the sword and grabbed his burned hand, swearing in Arabic. "Sorry! Sorry!" Nightstar squeaked. "I've never burned someone like that, is your hand—?"

She was cut off by a fist right to her stomach, over the wound she'd gotten the previous day. "Well, this is better," Damian mused as he aimed a kick at her.

Better was subjective. That hurt. "X'hal, Damian, can't you quit it?"

"Not apparently. You're doing great, though." He gave her a weak smile as his fist sailed toward her face.

"That's enough."

Damian was grabbed by a gloved hand, his arm twisted up behind his back. He snarled and lashed out with his feet, but Nightwing held him still and tilted his neck to the side as the gloved hand drove a syringe into it. The young man swooned before his knees buckled. Nightstar caught him before he hit the ground and lowered him gently, cradling his head on her lap.

"Grandpa?" she called, peering own at Damian worriedly. He wasn't unconscious, but he was breathing deeply and his limbs were absolutely still.

"It's just a muscle relaxer, Nightstar," Batman explained.

Red Robin approached the four of them, Talia al Ghul in tow, restrained by the wrists and glaring especially hard at Nightwing. "Bruce," she growled. "You've won. You took my son from me." She flipped her hair into place, a dignified gesture that made Nightstar gnash her teeth. "Keep him. Damian is now an enemy to the house of al Ghul."

Even Uncle Tim looked shocked, the decisiveness in her voice unmistakable. She'd just disowned her only son.

"I w'll be a w'rthy en'my, Mother," Damian declared, his speech slurred from the dose he'd been given.

"I'm sure you will, my son," she said, her voice devoid of emotion.

Bruce nodded at Red Robin, who hauled her off to a holding cell. Nightstar was vaguely aware that they would be unable to hold Talia for long; her craft and skill rivaled Batman's, and even though she'd tried to kill Nightstar, Nightwing, and Red Robin, not to mention whoever else was on her hit-list, Batman would hand deliver her back to Ra's al Ghul with a word of warning. The uneasy peace between the Waynes and the al Ghuls was too important to throw away over this incident, where no one died except for most of the ninja who ambushed Damian and Mar'i at his apartment. But Batman didn't need to know about that.

Nightstar reached her hand out to hold Damian's. His fingers twitched against hers in response, as he was unable to move much more than that.

…

" _Red Casebook Entry #1330. April 19, 2013._

"I have been disowned by my mother. I am moderately upset by that. We never interacted that much, but she is still my mother. Mar'i is helping me get past it. My father seems to accept me. Grayson is hesitant, but he is trying. Drake does not trust me, and that stings, but I cannot blame him. We will figure this out, Mar'i and I. With her help, I'll be able to join my family."

…

"…my boyfriend, Damian." As Mar'i spoke into the camera, she pulled Damian by the elbow down to her level. He flashed an annoyed look at her, but then he turned to the camera.

All signs of annoyance or his usual confidence evaporated immediately. "Um, hi. Ah… Greetings, your Majesty."

The redheaded woman onscreen waved her hand at him. "Please, do not address me with such formalities. I prefer to be called by Earth name, Starfire, or Mrs. Grayson, if you like."

"Right. Sorry. I'll remember that."

"He is most polite, Mar'i," Starfire pointed out to her daughter, earning a pleased smile from her and a fierce blush from Damian.

"I know! He's awesome and everything. I just wanted you to meet him. I don't think Daddy approves."

"Your father is caught up in pre-existing relationships, which is unfounded as there are none. I have no objections, as there is no common blood and it is not as though you were raised together. Conventional human morés do not apply."

"Thanks, Mommy. Love you, talk to you again soon."

Starfire smiled serenely. "I love you as well, darling. It was nice meeting you, Damian." Her green eyes, identical to Mar'i's, flicked over Damian's shoulder, where Dick was busy sulking against the wall behind the desk. "I shall call you tonight." And with that, her image winked out and the computer displayed an image of Mar'i's background.

"See, Daddy, Mommy doesn't see anything wrong with it," Mar'i announced as she climbed out of her chair.

"Yeah, I know. And I guess she has a point, but it still makes me—"

"I'm glad you agree!" Before her father could protest further, Mar'i threw her arms around his neck in a hug. "Thanks, Daddy."

Damian shot Dick an apologetic, somewhat nervous glance, wishing to keep out of his bad graces.

Dick sighed into his daughter's embrace. "Yeah, yeah. Okay. The Mom Approval wins out again."

Mar'i retreated to her boyfriend's side, looking pleased with herself.

"Are you both going on patrol tonight? I have work at eleven."

"Yeah, don't worry. Damian's been teaching me sword fighting in case those ninja guys come back." Putting her feet in the right position, Mar'i pretended to jab a sword at an imaginary assassin, moving her left hand in a graceful arc as she jabbed her right arm forward.

"Good. Have you been thinking about a superhero name?" Dick asked Damian. "The Robin mantle's open, you know. You can try my first uniform."

"You couldn't pay Damian to put on the pixie-boots, Dad," Mar'i giggled.

"I don't know. I've been thinking… Maybe Redbird, or something. Black and red seem to be the family colors."

"There's nothing wrong with blue, either," Dick commented with a small grin. "Although Bluebird just doesn't have the same ring to it, does it?"

"How about Purplebird?" Mar'i chimed in. "You can be my sidekick!"

"Nice try, but sidekicks aren't usually the ones teaching sword fighting techniques."

Her only response was to stick her tongue out at him. "Fine. If you're so insistent on being a bird, how about Magpie or Albatross or something? Maybe Pelican Boy?"

Damian rolled his eyes and pushed her in the direction of the basement, which they were using primarily for training. "Move it, Grayson."

Mar'i grinned at him and ducked into the kitchen, where the door to the basement was located. She turned to Damian's black and white cat, sitting by its food bowl and meowing pitifully at her. She giggled at its undeniable cuteness before filling its food bowl. While she was tending to Damian's cat, she caught a glimpse of her father with a hand on Damian's shoulder, saying something encouraging. It filled her with a special kind of happiness to see them getting along. She felt like everything was coming together well.

Damian was finally getting the family he deserved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Considered killing Mar'i at the end, there, and having Damian become either Batman or the head of the League to avenge her. But nah. I'll go with the cutesy ending.
> 
> Comic credit: Redbird is an alter ego that Damian picks when Bruce forbade him to go out as Robin, and it's from the New 52 so it comes complete with a stupid costume. Seriously, it looks less like a superhero uniform and more like a NASCAR jumpsuit with a cape.
> 
> I had way too much fun writing this. Every single thing in here was carefully calculated, either to show character development, plot, or a little jab of dry humor. Notice that Damian seems to go from not caring about Mar'i and wanting her dead to liking her a lot in no time at all. That's because you only see what Damian says to his Red Casebook. He's putting on a front to be strong. That's what he was trained to do. It's only when he breaks away from his training that he can embrace his feelings for her or whatever barfy fluff you want to infer.


End file.
